Just a Favour, For a Damsel
by NickiNight
Summary: When you're thrown into the life of a notorious art thief, your life seems as if it can't get any better... But a detective comes along and tickles your fancy, how would Alexandre LeMatteu, your husband, take his findings... How will you both get out of the mess you'd gotten yourselves into? More importantly, who will Sherlock turn to for help?


**Prologue**

Alexandre LeMatteu, the most notorious art thief in the world, resided in France, in a mansion on the edges of Paris with his accomplice, you. This hadn't been your plan, to become his one of the richest people in the world, owning some of the best paintings and artifacts. Heck, you loved art, it's the reason you applied for a job at the Nation Art museum in London, but having Alexandre steal every single piece you desired, was just one of the perk of being involved.

You met the art thief when he was researching in to a piece, he needed to get more information about the security and just where exactly all these priceless beauties were kept. It was awfully frustrating the way you actually thought you had met the one, that person who's perfect, but you figured out that it was him that stole it; he was anything but perfect, especially since he'd actually used you purely for the information about it, lying about how he worked for the Art museum in Paris. The authorities had never recovered the painting, you were intrigued about the ordeal and just how Alexandre managed to pull it off such a stunt, it was pretty... impressive. The brown haired, blue eyes fellow had managed to wrap you around his little finger, in more ways than one, but the art thief himself had flawed on this occasion, letting himself indulge in romance and splash out on expensive necklaces and bracelets for you, basically, he mistakenly fell in love.

On the 21st of April 2005, you helped him steal one of the most popular paintings in the gallery, '_Perseus turning Phineas and his Followers to Stone_' by Luca Giordano. He adored that painting and couldn't help but explain to you many a times just how the love of a man for a woman can cause such chaos and drive him to murder, by December of that year, you & Alexandre were married, living together in France.

But the classy lifestyle and excitement soon began to fade for you both, but you still remained a couple for various reasons. You'd become some sort of dominatrix, giving up your job to be with Alexandre and living in the lap of luxury, certainly well known as one of the sexiest females in the industry, rivaling with a woman known as Irene Adler.

**Chapter 1: Just the beginning**

Karachi 2006, Sherlock Holmes had been planning the rescue of Irene Adler, The woman; the woman that had beat him at his own game, but somehow, ended up losing. It was risky, but despite the fact, he owed her the favor, this would leave them square and he'd never have to hear from her again, unless he wished to. He'd managed to work his way in to the prison where Miss Adler was being held captive, ready for her execution. Sherlock had got himself in, taken place of the executioner and ready to put his plan to action.

Elsewhere in Karachi, there was a crime taking place; the robbery of a priceless golden statue from the museum of art and sculpture which housed thousands of years' worth of treasures, but one stood out from the rest. Alexandre LeMatteu couldn't help but desire it so much. Everything had to be planned perfectly, down to the very last detail. All the security codes, prints, cameras had to be accounted for.

The time had to be perfect; at 21:00 hours the guards swapped places, leaving their posts for 18 seconds exactly. The sunroof above the golden beauty was of course covered with some of the highest tech laser beams, something Alexandre specialized in. Many hours of gymnastics and capoeira had paid off.

You weren't ever taken on heists, you were the '_information gatherer_' and accomplice, working during open hours, charming and acting in public to the thief's advantages. At least you were staying in the top suite of the most luxurious five star hotels in Karachi, waiting for Alexandre to return, you were never alone though, his bodyguards and a technical team of the best hackers were always following not far behind, being paid more than they'd ever imagined for their help

Irene Adler had information almost about everyone she had 'worked' for, including your husband. Alexandre wasn't upset about hearing of her abduction, he had fallen for her many times, but you'd remained at his side. The Dominatrix had not expected Sherlock of all people to save her, but he did, letting her flee and seek help from her clients.

**Chapter 2: My prized possession**

The authorities could hardly believe their eyes when they'd seen the bulletproof glass surrounding the precious stand still intact, but the statue was gone, stolen, from right under their noses and 18 seconds was all that was needed. Alexandre was a playful man; he loved leaving his mark in place of the art. His signature mark was a black silhouette of a man in paper, holding the stolen object, with a cut out smile.

Nobody had never seen the 'Silhouette Shadow' as the police had called him, very little was known about him, he was almost untouchable. The painting was rolled up in a protective plastic sleeve, handed to his trusted associates to be shipped back to France and delivered to him safely. All in all, the hardest part was the gathering of information, the planned and the way Alexandre retrieved the item.

The gossip ran quickly in the world of thieves, Irene had escaped thanks to a man called Sherlock Holmes, the best detective in the world, apparently, he would be no match for LeMatteu if they'd every crossed paths.

Sherlock was now on the run; running from the authorities and those who want Irene dead. The detective had to lay low until his scheduled flight was ready to leave. News of the 'Silhouette Shadow' was spreading all over Pakistan, causing chaos with all its multiple owners. Sherlock couldn't help but find it amusing how one man left many stunned and questioning how.

The rest of your stay in Karachi would now be discreet, all the technical support would return to France; returning to their families for a month after being paid. You, on the other hand, would spend Alexandre's money in luxurious shops, buying all sorts of wonderful jewelry and gowns, accompanied by one of his body guards of course.

**Chapter 3: A lucky escape**

LeMatteu was scheduled to return to France a few days later, after celebrating another successful steal. You both arrived at the airport, having your bags carried for you as you both approached the check-in. Only problem was, Miss Adler had contacted Alexandre seeking asylum from him, to which he happily agreed, almost pushing you out of the picture despite that 18 carat gold diamond ring on your finger.

Sighing heavily, the wait seemed eternal. You had to travel by standard airline, Irene taking your place in first class. You wandered around the waiting area, glancing in all the clothes and perfume shops until coming across a café at the far end of the airport where a very… mysterious tall figure sat alone at a table. You decided you might as well spend your time having fun. Approaching the table you pulled the sexiest smile you could and spoke softly "Hi, can I possibly join you?"

Looking around, the detective could see the many empty tables surrounding them, but you'd picked to sit with him, clearly you had flirtatious intentions. He nodded, gesturing to the chair in front of him and returned to the newspaper. Front page was plastered with pictures of the Art gallery and confused detectives. Smirking, you silently watched him, the tip of the front of your heel brushing against his leg, although, he didn't seem to react the way you wanted, he just sat there, his eyes flickering from page to page and every so often glancing up at you.

"My names (Your Name), what's yours?" you asked, leaning on the table and smiling at him. The detective eventually closed the paper and huffed irritably "Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective" he held out his hand. Your eyes lit up and your smile grew, so this was the detective that freed Irene Adler all by himself _and_ got away with it, impressive "Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes" you replied, shaking his hand.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, a scolding, perhaps?" you spoke quietly, just about sensual. The detective hadn't quite caught on to what you'd said until a couple of seconds later, leaving him confused but surprised "I'm sorry?" he questioned. You giggled and shrugged "Anything you want?"

He was more and more confused over the matter than ever, he leaned closer on the table, looking right at you and raising a brow, beginning a deduction worth waiting for "Dominatrix or escort? How does your husband live with you, he must be very rich for you to still be with him" Raising a brow, you were certainly impressed, you giggled and leaned on the table, merely inches away from his lips "Which one do _you_ want me to be?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he looked into yours, interrupted by the sound of your flight being called to border. You sighed, looking away and getting up "Well, I best be off. Wouldn't want to miss my flight home" you winked at him, pulling out a small business card and handing it to the detective "If you're ever in Paris Monsieur Holmes, I'd _love _to meet up" you smirked, turning and walking away.

The detective took the card, reading everything on it; especially your name '(Your Name) LeMatteu', clearly married to a French man and the balance of probability stated that French people _love _their art more than most… Plus, wouldn't an art thief be rich? And certainly have an extremely attractive wife. Hunches led to theories and before he knew it, Sherlock was boarding the plane, taking a minor detour in Paris.

**Chapter 4: Karachi to Paris**

Boarding the plane with all the people you would have considered normal, now seemed to nearly disgust you. Your rich and fancy lifestyle had turned you into something else, something evil like your husband, but the luxuries were too tempting to give up. You finally managed to find your seat, struggling to lift your small handheld trolley into the overhead compartments, but a deep recognizable voice sounded aside you "May I help you with that?"

Looking in that direction, Sherlock had already reached out, took your case and put it in the compartment with ease, along with his own and his Belstaff "Ladies first" he gestured into the small row of three seats. You smirked and slid through, sitting next to the window and sending the detective one of those flirtatious smiles.

The Consulting detective had to keep on your good side; he'd had enough trouble in Pakistan without having a possible world famous criminal's bounty on his head "So, tell me about yourself" he spoke, tightening the belt in place around his waist. You smirked, narrowing your eyes and wondering just how much you could actually tell the detective, he was smart, smart enough to figure you out with a simple glance "Well, what can I say? I'm a lucky girl living the life many women want"

"Yet here you are flying standard and not first class" he raised a brow, pointing the irritating fact out "Yes, well, rich men can't have just one woman in their life, can they?" clearly there was another woman currently occupying your husband's time. He could see that your reaction to his observation had struck a nerve "Apologies" he looked down. You soon returned to your usual sultry self "You can make it up to me by getting us some champagne" Sherlock lifted his head, tilting it as if wondering if you literally meant that, leaving you questioning his look, you spoke up "What? Don't you think a standard airline has that?" The detective looked away reflectively for a moment and then returned "I don't know, I've never asked"

You smirk, keeping your eyes fixed on his, rather amused just how little he knew about the finer things in life, then again, you didn't know much either until you married Alexandre. Sherlock looked back at you, his own eyes fixed on yours as if trying to read the impossible, he randomly blurted the thing that cross his mind "You're a very expensive woman, (Your Name)" Amused by him, you giggled, replying "Just the way _you_ like it"

**Chapter 5: A brief encounter**

Arriving at Roissy-Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, it was hell waiting for your bags to arrive from the plane; I suppose it was stupid to think that maybe Alexandre had got them for you since he was occupied. You should have just taken hand luggage… then again half your clothes wouldn't fit in, so waiting was the only option.

Soon enough, your leopard skin patterned suitcase came around on the conveyor belt. The detective helped you with it, politely pulling it along for you as he held his own baggage, which was the smart way with hand luggage only. You felt saddened that your journey with the detective was ending and soon you'd have to part ways "How long are you stopping in Paris for?" you asked curiously, "I don't know. A week, maybe?" he replied.

Now reaching the exit, a black car was stopped not too far from the door and a young brown haired man waited impatiently against the back door, chewing gum, ghastly habit. Another fellow stood the other side, glancing around and watching people, possible a bodyguard. Sherlock knew from his deduction that this was your husband, he handed you your suitcase and kept his distance from the pair. You smirked as you saw Alexandre waiting for you, especially while you were with the detective, turning to him you took your case, winking "Don't forget to call me" you pouted, your red lipstick glimmering in the light was distracting, too distracting for Sherlock's liking, it was the only place he could stare at, watching your lips move as you spoke "I'll be _very_ upset if you don't" and before thinking, Sherlock had already blurted his reply, "I will"

Smirking, you started to walk away, heading towards your, not amused, husband "Who was that? What does he want?" he asked, his French accent sounding almost jealous, he opened the door for you, warily watching the tall man walk away in the opposite direction. Handing over your case to the bodyguard you hopped in "Nobody, just a friend I met on the plane" you replied. Alexandre got in after you, still questioning sternly "What's his name?"

Looking at your husband, you ran your finger down his jawline "I wasn't interested in his name… There's nothing for you to worry about my _Da Vinci_" you smirked, leaning in and pecking his lips softly then whispering softly "Why don't you tell me _all _about this new statue you desired so much?" A smirk grew on his lips and he responded "I'll tell you about it, over dessert" he playfully growled.

**Chapter 6: Confronting**

Getting back home to Chateau Montrel; Montrel being Alexandre's grandfather, founder and architect of the beautiful place, which then was passed down to his son, Alexis and out of his three sons, down to Alexandre.

The night was still young as you slowly walked outside onto the balcony, overlooking a lake and many trees in the distance; it was always gorgeous when watching the sunset. Only problem was that you were never really alone, either bodyguards or Alex's employees were always there, no real time to unwind and take off the mask of luxury and be normal.

The sound of a bottle cork popping behind you is what attracted your attention away from the pretty sight. Alexandre smiled as he walked towards you, a bottle of champagne and two glasses accompanying him. He set them down on the small half-wall overlooking the lake; pouring until they were almost full "To another successful steal" he raised his glass. Picking up yours, you clinked your glass against his "And to many more" you added, smirking before taking a sip.

Glancing up at the house, you could see Irene through the patio doors, looking rather pensive, it was time to go and tell her all about her savior. You finished off your champagne and left the glass outside for later use, you wondered over inside with a devious smirk on your face "I must say your lover boy is quite the charmer"

Irene looked back at you with a smile "Hm? I don't know what you're on about" Laughing and slowly walking around to her you stopped a few feet away in front "Oh you do, Irene" you paused, "Does Sherlock Holmes ring a bell?"

The dominatrix's face fell, turning to worry "What about him? He's nothing" she retorted, "Then you won't mind if I… _teach him a lesson_, will you?" you teased, turning away and giggling to yourself and returning outside to your husband.

Adler was almost upset, it wasn't just a game to her… she'd mistakenly let herself feel for the detective in the silly hat, and now, you were getting your claws into him, not that she even cared… maybe. She was most likely never going to see him again, especially after he'd told her to run and not look back, he never contacted her and she was now apparently dead to the world, therefore, they wouldn't ever speak again.

Even Irene knew that Alex had a soft spot for her, perhaps she could play you at your own game… then again, she had tried that many times but he loved you _and _Irene, however, you were officially his wife, the beneficiary of the beautiful chateaux and all his prized possessions. There was no way he would remarry, imagine the gossip in the vast circles of Art collectors & criminals, the amount of people trying to woo you with riches and fame, Alexandre wouldn't be able to handle seeing the first woman he'd truly loved to be with another man…

**Chapter 7: Lots of questions**

The authorities in Karachi were still no closer to narrowing down who exactly this 'Silhouette Shadow' was; the newspapers in France were publishing the story as if amazed. Only very few people knew who it was, including you and Irene, his parents, Alexis was always proud of his youngest son, keeping up the family business and collecting such stunning antiques, some of his closest associates being art thieves, even people at the treasury knew! He was an untouchable man, a man with power.

In the center of Paris, Sherlock had checked into a lovely hotel near the Eiffel tower. He tossed your '_business_' card onto the bed and began to pace the room, thinking. His elder brother, Mycroft, was overlooking the previous mission, just knowing how well his younger brother would figure out that Irene was not in witness protection, but watching his brothers transactions on his credit card it was becoming more and more stranger "Paris?!" Mycroft questioned, looking up towards his secretary, best known as Anthea, the woman nodded "Yes, sir. In a hotel called Shangri-La Hotel. _Lovely_ views of the Eiffel tower, _very_ romantic" she smirked down at him.

Mycroft nodded, waving his hand and then his face drooped with fear, the thought of his younger brother rescuing a dominatrix from being executed… then running off to the city of love with her "Get me Sherlock, now!" he demanded angrily.

The sun had set and preparations for a celebratory private party were being set up, Alex always loved a good party, showing off some of his best steals, all the guests would be his usual ones, his family and friends, some of the most popular people in France, including the people at the treasury _and _politicians "The secret to successfully getting away with anything you want, (Your Name), is knowing the right people in the right places" Alexandre whispered in your ear as you both stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the many people already in the foyer "How does Irene fit in to your schemes?" you questioned, turning your head to the side, your cheek brushing against his, he replied "Entertainment for the guests, of course, you know I never host a boring party" he smirked, taking your hand and leading you downstairs.

**Chapter 8: Warnings**

Sherlock continued to pace, still thinking for over an hour. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out, grimacing at seeing the caller name 'Mycroft', it was very rare for the elder Holmes to ever call his younger sibling, it was even more rare that Sherlock answered it "Sherlock, I will not be mad but why are you in Paris? _And _don't think about lying about it, I will find out" Mycroft's voice sounded angry but forcefully staying calm. The detective frowned, wondering how "What? Are you tracing my card?" he guessed, "Can one not go on holiday anymore?" he added. Mycroft grew impatient "Where is Irene Adler?" Sherlock raised a brow, beginning to smirk, eventually laughing "Oh, you think I'm in the city of love with Irene? Well you're very much mistaken dear brother. Also, I thought she was in witness protection in the states?" he wittily questioned.

The elder one sighed heavily, "Stop playing games, Sherlock. Why are you there?" he asked again. Sherlock took in a deep breath, ready to tell him everything without pausing "I know you watch the news so you must have heard that a priceless statue had been stolen from one of the most secure museums in the world in Karachi, I believe I know who this 'Silhouette Shadow' is, I've met his wife, lovely lady if I may say, dominatrix as well, she may possible know Irene, nonetheless, I may be able-" he stopped, being interrupted by Mycroft sighing and speaking over him "Sherlock, his name is Alexandre LeMatteu, I suggest you stay well away from them unless you want to end up six feet under the winery, apparently rotting flesh is good for grapes…" he smirked.

Sherlock huffed, Mycroft always ruined the fun, "But I may be able to find out what he's going to steal next, hopefully, he'll maybe leave me a body along the way, but it's a rather good challenge don't you think?!" he almost yelled with excitement.

Mycroft rubbed his fingertips over his eyes irritably "Sherlock, if you someway interfere with Alexandre's affairs you will have me to deal with, if he hadn't already disposed of you" he hung up.

**Chapter 9: The Party**

Gossip of Alexandre's celebratory party was travelling fast through the criminal channels; it would be a perfect time to infiltrate and get to know more about him. Despite what Mycroft had said Sherlock was going to this party. He took a quick shower and got changed into a new clean suit, picking up your card and rereading it, lucky enough, there was an address on the back, your little dungeon of secrets.

Back at the party, there were a fair few people there, some people you recognized having a woman on each arm and expensive clothing. Even some of your previous 'clients' were there, Alex didn't mind since they were… not exactly your type, but a job is a job and some idiots are willing to pay you for you to look pretty and beat them. Looking around with a drink in your hand, possibly looking for some lonely soul to talk to, you noticed it hadn't taken long before Alexandre had begun his flirtatious speeches with some female guests.

Having a taxi called for him by the hotel, Sherlock got in and handed the card to the driver who read it and then handed it back, smirking and speaking "Ah, English, yes?" he asked, glancing in his car mirror back at the detective. Sherlock acknowledged, not saying much more. The drive, on the other hand, spoke again "Looking for some domination, eh?" he laughed, "Well you're going to the right place, I heard she has one of those… uh" he clicked his fingers, struggling to find the translation, Sherlock sighed and suggested "Dungeons?" The cab driver smirked and nodded "Yes, yes, dungeons"

Back at the party, Alexandre wandered over to you with a new woman on his arm, eager to introduce you and possibly twist your arm into hiring a co-dominatrix, although you doubted that she even knew what the job description required "(Your Name)" he called as you watched his approach, rising a brow at his _friend_ "This is Dominique" he introduced her. You sighed and gave her the once over before pulling a strained smile "Hi" then walking passed them and heading towards the doors where one of the guards were checking the incoming guests and making sure they were invited, you stood idly near the door, alone and sipping your drink.

The ride to the address stated on the back of the card, was tiring, the driver had kept talking about 'Lady Muraya' and what he's heard from others of things she does. The detective couldn't wait to get out, handing him some money and telling him to keep the change. There was a small queue of people waiting to get into the place, which was rather big, bigger than he'd expected. There was no way he could get in any other way but the door… which was guarded, but worth a try. He stood in line, patiently waiting until it was his turn.

"Nom?" the guard asked in French and the detective responded "Uh, Holmes. Sherlock Holmes" the fellow scrolled down the list with his finger, "You're not on the list" he signaled the other fellow aside him "Damien, get rid of this joker" the guy agreed, smirking and grabbing the detective.

Hearing that name from the door, your eyes lit up and you hurried and looked out, yelling "Wait!" Damien, the other guard, stopped and looked back at you, "He's my guest" you smirked towards the detective. The guard let go of Sherlock's suit and huffed, just when it was going to get fun.

**Chapter 10: Access granted**

Straightening out his dinner jacket, Sherlock walked back up the steps towards you "Um, thank you for your assistance" he spoke, looking around the beautiful foyer where the party was held. You couldn't help but smile at him, just watching him and admiring those cheek bones "Did Irene ever tell anyone could cut themselves slapping you?" The detective looked back at you with a frown "Oddly, yes" he replied.

Lucky for you, Alexandre hadn't spotted the tall, mysterious guy you'd, apparently, met on the plane, but Irene had. She watched from a distance, watching your body flirt with his, although he never responded, like usual. She wanted to speak to him for one last time but… it would just make it harder for her to say goodbye again.

You mostly ignored the fact that Sherlock was talking and admiring some of the paintings on the wall, you lifted your finger to his lips and shushed him "Why don't you stop being a brainbox for a few minutes and let me show you something…" you smirked, taking hold of the lapels of his suit and pulling him along over towards the stairs.

Unwillingly, the detective had no choice but to follow, maybe he should have listened to the cab driver after all. Putting down your glass and leading him up the stairs and down the hall to one of the bedrooms, you couldn't wait to have him. Sherlock tried to pull away, but you were certainly one for leading. He awkwardly stumbled into the bedroom, wanting to question what you were doing "Eh, (Your Name)?" he spoke. You ignored him, dragging him over to the bed and pushing him down to sit on it "What do you like, Sherlock?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck, your chest becoming awfully close to his face, "Eh" he hummed, his eyes glancing from your exposed cleavage up to your face "W- w"

You tilted your head "See anything you like?" The detective couldn't seem to make a comprehensible sentence in his head, let alone say it. He began to feel uncomfortable, but knew his manly instincts were driving it, becoming aroused wasn't something the consulting detective had ever considered experiencing. He was left sort of… dazed and wanting to speak but couldn't.

You giggled as you looked down at him, helpless to himself "Stay" you ordered, pulling away and keeping your eye on him, you opened up your walk-in-wardrobe "Latex or lace?" you asked, walking inside and searching for something suitable… Sherlock sat on the bed, looking awkwardly around "Eh- eh, neither" he replied. Giggling from the wardrobe, you responded "Oh, you want me naked now? There's no fun in that"

Sighing heavily, he quickly spoke "No, no. I didn't mean it like that" After many minutes of searching you decided on something, something you'd class as special, your two piece mini corset, hardly covering anything, but nonetheless, was special, accompanied by some stockings and some of your favorite little toys… those being blindfolds, handcuffs and a small whip. Oh he was in for a treat.

**Chapter 11: Playing games**

**[Certainly rated +18 c;]**

Emerging from your wardrobe of wanders you stood against the door frame, waiting for him to see you. Sherlock stood back up, adjusting his jacket and gulping; thinking and thinking just how could he get himself out of this mess. He eventually turned around, glancing up and doing a double take, letting his mouth gape.

Smirking as you was you wandered over to him "See anything you like now?" Once again, he was speechless. You took hold of his jacket, pulling back over to the bed, "I see you like to be naughty and disobey me… now I'm going to have to punish you"

The detective shook his head, "W- no. I didn't come here for this…" he explained. One of the cuffs slid around his wrist and the other to the bed post. "W- Wait" he spoke, but you were raring to go "Lie down, detective" you spoke firmly, "Don't make me use force" you smirked. And like a good boy, he obeyed; maybe this would be all over soon. You cuffed his other wrist to the other bed post, there was no escaping now. You straddled his waist and looked down at him "I think you're my favorite client" you whispered, lying down on him and kissing his chin, trailing down his jawline and down his neck.

Sherlock had no other choice but to let you do what you wanted to, perhaps he could use this to his own advantage "Your husband, he stole that statue in Karachi, didn't he?" he asked. Nibbling at his neck you hummed a positive response, running your hands up his torso and tugging on his shirt, eventually ripping it undone, buttons flying everywhere. You then returned to his neck, grinding your hips against him and growling playfully as you watched him with his eyes screwed shut "Ooh, aren't you happy to see me"

Struggling to hold back his excitement, the detective had to focus on the matter at hand, well, not literally at hand "Uh, I see you have the most famous painting stolen from the National Art museum in London hanging above your bed" Giggling, you hopped off and worked on getting him naked, pulling off the remaining of his clothes "It's Alex's favorite"

Swallowing hard and trying to stay cool, the detective stared up at the ceiling while you admired everything about him, biting your lip and almost wanting him to be the dominate one. You moved up aside him, picking up the small blindfold and placed it on him "Now I'm just going to tease you and not let you watch" you smirked, pulling off your panties and throwing them aside "I'm guessing you're not a very confident man when it comes to sex, how many lucky women have you had, Sherlock?" you asked, sitting on his thighs and running your foot up and down his chest, "I- I haven't" he mumbled.

Surprised as you were you felt as equally amazed "Really? Ooh, I feel special. I will make your first time unforgettable" you whispered, running the nail of your index finger up and down the side of his hardened manhood.

**Chapter 12: Game players**

**[+18 baby, yeah I'm a big descriptive smut writer]**

After much teasing, the detective could no longer wait; he was ready and eager to go. You dug your nails in his chest as he slid inside you, moaning and letting yourself adjust to his length and width.

**[You secretly love this writing]**

Underneath you, squirming and now needing more, Sherlock couldn't help but actually enjoy your warmth, only problem was, he had to imagine it all, what it would be like to look down right now, and when he least expected it, you started to bounce on him, a pace that you wanted, leaving the detective shocked and flinching underneath you, gasping and groaning.

**[If you didn't, you wouldn't have got this far]**

There was only so much he could take before he strained his voice as he spoke "S-stop… please, stop" he begged. You giggled and continued, running the strands of leather on your whip down his chest "You have to call me mistress if you want me to" you told him. He tugged on the cuffs every time you fell down onto him, a strained, but pleasing groan emerging from his lips. "Call me mistress, Sherlock" you demanded. The consulting detective stayed quiet, wincing and testing just how long he could go without giving in to you… but it didn't take long, you speeded up the pace, gasping and moaning with pleasure as you loved it, "Okay, mistress, stop, please stop" he yelled.

**[You really can't deny it now]**

Giggling you obeyed with what he wanted, slowing down and reaching a more comfortable pace for him "Mm, I love the way you call me that" you moaned. The detective lay still, panting heavily and tugging at the cuffs again, you ran the tip of your finger up his right cheek bone, just admiring it, before teasing "Shall I take that blindfold off you?"

Sherlock nodded "Yes" it seemed as if he was getting more and more confident the longer the intimate games went on. You tut-tutted "What's the magic word?" Sherlock answered, guessing "Please?" You shook your head, lightly slapping him across the face, oh you'd done a lot worse but he was your favorite. The detective smirked a little, quite amused "For a dominatrix, you don't slap very hard"

**[You're in too deep]**

Oh he was declaring war, "Really?" you questioned, slapping him again, now with everything you could. Sherlock winced a little but he couldn't really do much being tied up as he was, "Is the magic word mistress?" he asked with a smile.

**Chapter 13: The winner**

**[If you've reached here, then I must say you're one kinky reader, congratulations]**

You slowly lifted up the blindfold off his eyes and smirked "Yes" The detective lay there dazed for a moment as now actually seeing what he was doing was slowly beginning to worry him. His eyes trailed all over your body, observing everything, every last detail. Flutters of butterflies filled in stomach; he began to pulse inside you from not getting what he wanted "Uh" he spoke nervously, as if he thought he had to. You instantly shushed him and restarted your activity, bouncing on top of him and moaning, just watching him enjoy everything you gave him.

Now being able to see, it was so much better than what he had imagined, he started to wonder why he hadn't, 'explored' this side of sex more often, then again, he didn't explore any type of sex, he didn't need it. Gritting his teeth together and screwing his eyes closed, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer, and going by the short, breathless cries you were making, neither were you.

And just like he predicted, you reached your climax, moaning and biting your lip hard. The worst part was, you stopped bouncing just when he was so close… he wasn't going to let the opportunity slide away, he bucked his hips as much as he could in the position he was in, it was hard work but so worth it, he groaned and flinched underneath you as he succeeded in reaching his climax.

Elsewhere, down in the foyer where the party was, Alexandre was preparing to make his final speech and toasting to his success, but he couldn't find you anywhere, it wouldn't be the same without his stunning wife on his arm as he bragged about just how good he was. He jogged quickly up the stairs, turning around and trying to spot you from above, but he couldn't see that black, tight, sparkly dress you wore. Curious to where you'd gone, he guessed you'd perhaps gone to swap dresses, you know how women are. He slowly hummed to himself as he made his way in direction of his bedroom.

Uncuffing the detective, he was still exhausted, but he managed to get to his feet and slip his underwear on and was now in search of his trousers. You took your time in getting dressed, slowly sliding off the bed and watching him "There's no rush, detective. I rather like you with no clothes on" you smirked. Grunting heavily and finding them, he started to put them on "W-we should get back before anyone notices" he suggested, heading into the bathroom to tidy himself up.

You rolled your eyes at his suggestion, but it was true. Getting to your feet you fetched your dress from the wardrobe and returned to finish watching Sherlock get dressed. As soon as you'd slipped into your attire, the bedroom door opened.

**Chapter 14: Close one**

Alexandre smiled as he saw you slipping into your dress, unaware of the fellow from the airport standing in his ensuite bathroom, dressing. He raised a brow as the bed was messy and the cuffs were still hooked to the bedposts, Alex sent you a questioning look as he got confused, you awkwardly smirked and had to think fast "I- I was waiting for you but you're late, sweetheart" you ran your finger up his chest, grapping his shirt firmly and pulling him closer. He planted a soft kiss on your lips with a devilish smile and made his way down to your neck. You looked towards the bathroom, where Sherlock stood froze on the spot; you quickly gestured towards the balcony and mouthed the words "Run"

Just like you said, the detective obeyed, he moved as quickly and quietly as he could towards the balcony and looking for an escape route. Alex lifted his head at hearing something odd and saw a brief shadow. Frowning, he let go of you and went to investigate. He could hardly believe it when he saw the mysterious man from the airport climbing down the fence that decorated the châteaux with greenery. The art thief rushed back inside, rushing into the hallway and calling his men over, informing them of the intruder and telling them to kill him on sight.

Returning a few minutes later, Alexandre was furious, but had plenty of questions for you, "What was he doing here?!" he yelled. You flinched a little at just how loud he was, it was quite scary "I- I don't know!" you replied. The anger was beginning to show in his face, he moved quickly in the room, pacing it, gritting his teeth and just wondering what exactly you had been up to.

Irene had been trying to entertain the most easily bored guests, but it was no use, they were still all standing and waiting for Alexandre to make his grand speech and toast to his victory but he was nowhere in sight. She made her way upstairs quickly, in search of Alex, soon finding you both in the bedroom, oddly enough, she knew exactly which way that was "Alex, your guests are starting to get bored" she spoke. He turned around and waved her off, "Not now!"

You crossed your arms over your chest, wonderingly curious "How did she know where _our _bedroom was?" Alex huffed, pacing the room and not responding. You snickered, shaking your head and walking out of the room "Ha, I thought you'd be more adventurous about it" You already despised Irene, not only did your husband hire her for her services, now you knew he'd slept with her in the same bed as he did with you. Your hatred was just growing and growing, her heart belonged to the detective, the one you were going to get and it would be only a matter of time until she'd be as hurt as you.

Sherlock could hardly believe his bad luck as he ran through fields of grapes, he'd not only broken his rules of 'relationships' but he'd just become enemies with the most powerful art thief in the world by sleeping with his wife, hopefully Alexandre hadn't realized that. God know what would happen to you if he ever found out… Soon enough, he reached the very back of the yard, which was the entrance to a lake, no boat in sight, flash lights and French voices echoing behind him, there was only one way out, swimming for his life.

**Chapter 15: Regrets**

Struggling and getting to dry land, the detective's suit was certainly beyond repair, not to mention his mobile phone and wallet; he'd also left his coat behind in the rush as he tried to escape. There was no point in staying in France any longer, after all, he needed to get back as he'd been 'missing', according to his flat mate John, for weeks.

Alexandre was still angry, but also saddened about you finding out about his minor activities with your so called nemesis, your competitor. You made your way back to the party, picking up a rather large glass of champagne and drinking it in one, then picking up another and waving the waiter off. Huffing, you waited for Alex to come back down for his grand speech, and after a couple of minutes, he did.

He picked up his glass and you followed him over to where he usually did his idiotic boasting. You stood aside him, he placed his hand around your waist, warily watching you just in case you'd decided to push him away, but you didn't, you pulled one of those smiles nobody can resist towards the crowd and pretended everything was fine.

After many odd looks from local people in the street, Sherlock had managed to get back to his hotel, going straight to his room and taking a shower. The evening had been horrible, he never expected you to do what you did; hell, he didn't expect himself to be doing what he did. Looking in the mirror at himself, he spoke to himself mentally, promising never to get in such a situation again, not with anyone, ever. He picked up the landline phone provided in the room and dialed Mycroft's number, he was in need of help.

Back in London, England, the elder Holmes was worried about his younger brother, Sherlock was always one getting himself in arguments and danger for the sake of a case, it was stupid but if he didn't change as a child, he certainly wasn't going to now. Slowly dozing off in the silence of his own home, the sound of his phone ringing woke him; he picked it up and answered.

"I- I need your help" the voice of his younger sibling sounded, rather quietly and ashamed. Mycroft sighed "What have you done now? I know you went to that party" he informed. Sherlock coughed, clearing his throat "I need to get out of Paris as soon as possible, preferably in the next hour" The elder brother shook his head, "Fine, Sherlock. I will arrange it and send you the details and I expect to see you in my office as soon as you land, we have much to discuss…"

**Chapter 16: Everyone's angry in this chapter**

After an hour of searching, Alexandre's men came back empty handed, there was no sign of the fellow anywhere on the grounds, he'd escaped and was probably long gone. As you can imagine, your husband was furious with them, insulting and telling them how they were good for nothing grape squishers. Alex didn't even know this guy's name but he was smart enough to know that you did, although, you wouldn't say.

Sherlock had got his ride back home, a private jet sent to pick him up from the airport and take him straight to Heathrow, where he would be escorted by Mycroft's people to him. Sitting on the plane and staring out at the night sky as it flew, the detective retreated to his mind palace, storing memories and recalling the things and feelings he felt when with you in such an intimate state, they were nearly scary for him as he'd never experienced them before.

The flight seemed so quick for Sherlock as a man over the coms told him they would be landing in the next five minutes. Soon, he would have to face his brother and the shock of everything that had happened to him had sort of… knocked him off balance as his usual self.

The detective was escorted to the usual black car in which Anthea waited "Good morning, Sherlock" she smiled, Sherlock nodded, responding "Good morning" then looking at his watch, it was two in the morning, earlier, or later, than he expected.

The elder Holmes was a man of very little patients, he had his own schemes and plans ongoing while he held a minor position in the British Government. As he waited, he was speaking on the phone in French with a women, she spoke about how Alexandre's party had an intruder who was apparently upstairs but then managed to escape. Trying to sound amazed, Mycroft replied back to her and said he had to go, as he was about to attend to some things. Now sitting at his desk with his fingers laced together, staring at the door, he waited.

Taking a deep breath on the other side, Sherlock entered the office and greeted his sibling "Mycroft" then sat down and continued "How's the diet going?" Smiling sarcastically, the elder Holmes picked up a file and sat back comfily in his chair "Very well, thank you. Now, down to business, I've been informed about your party crashing" he spoke. Sherlock gulped and lifted his head curiously "I found the painting that was stolen from the museum here in London"

Mycroft continued to smile, as if he already knew "Very well, dear brother. I will clear your name with Alexandre and I suggest you keep a _very _low profile unless you wish to end up floating in the Thames" he threw down the file and waved his hand, signaling the two men who brought the detective there, to remove him and take him home.

The journey and returning to Baker Street was rather relieving, he felt fine and back to his usual self, eager for a good murder. Since it was around three in the morning, the entire building was quiet, 221B was quiet. Sherlock made his way inside, smiling as his flat had not changed over the past weeks, everything still in its place, including the skull. He made his way to his bedroom, unbuttoning his jacket and slowly undressing until reaching his bed and collapsing on it, instantly falling asleep as his head hit his cold soft pillow.

**Chapter 17: The detectives return**

The morning after, in France, it was time for a long talk with you. Alex cleared the living-room out of his employees, except for the usual mercenary idly standing around on guard. You were confused and rather busy with your beauty regiment, toe-nail shaping and painting wasn't going to stop Alex from getting answers "That man. He was at the airport and now here, in our bedroom, in _my _bedroom!" he spoke loudly, clearly he was still mad "What was he doing? What were you both doing?" he asked, slowly pacing side to side in front of you "If I ever find out you betrayed me…"

You shook your head and looked up at him surprised "What? We weren't doing anything! I don't even know how he got in there!" you replied, "And aren't you a little rich to be talking about bedroom company, huh? Seriously, it had to be Irene? Why couldn't it have been that girl you were with last night? At least then I can understand, she's younger clearly than me" Alex didn't say anything, he just continued to pace for a few minutes before huffing a leaving.

Morning at 221B Baker Street was full of surprises. John Watson, his flat mate, was pretty shocked to see the detective in the kitchen this morning, actually making tea "Oh, I'm glad you've finally returned" he sarcastically spoke, "Maybe you can pay some of the rent now, which, by the way, is overdue" Sherlock simply sighed, "Yes, all in good time, John. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson understands" he picked up a cup of tea and wandered into the living room, John following and they both sat down in their corresponding chairs, letting the silence draw them in until Watson spoke "So, where have you been?" he asked, Sherlock was reluctant to answer but did nonetheless "I was on holiday, and then went to Paris, I was investigating a minor curiosity" he replied, still, it wasn't really an answer to John's question, so he continued to ask "Which was?" Sighing heavily, the detective explained "I now know who this 'Silhouette Shadow is', stupid name as well, I never thought the French were so idiotic. I also met his wife, she helped me escape after…" he paused, awkwardly staring at the wall "… after infiltrating the premises"

**Chapter 18: Your plan**

Returning to your bedroom to get dressed, Alex hadn't even come to bed last night, he'd probably been with that woman or Irene, you didn't even care anymore, the art and riches were the only thing keeping you there. Tiding up the sheets and uncuffing the cuffs from the bedposts, you couldn't help but smirk as you recalled every last moment with the detective; you wondered where he was, if he was even in France anymore, hmm. Moving around to the other side, something rough tickled your foot, hiding under the duvet touching the floor.

Alexandre wasn't a man to be messed with; he was determined to know who his man was and what he was doing in his bedroom with his wife. He had cameras installed throughout the house in various places, the halls and the main foyer where the parties were held, the garden, etc. He was reviewing it alongside some of the technicians, who worked it, but the programs were all unresponsive, some of the feeds were slowly being deleted from an outside source, a virus sent by someone.

Lifting the sheets, you pulled out a coat, frowning and trying to think why it would be under there, Alex wasn't that messy with his coats, but the scent tickled your senses, making it completely recognizable, it was the detectives. You really couldn't help but giggle and admire it; wandering over to the mirror you slipped into it and had a good look at yourself, it was certainly elegant and cozy. It was an extremely long shot but he was a detective, and this Belstaf was certainly too good to go to waste, you would try and track him down, researching him on your phone until finding an address.

The art thief and his hackers were slowly, very slowly getting rid of the virus and tracking the person who sent it, but it was really no luck, the IP's were bouncing all over the world from Australia to Italy, to the US and Russia.

Hours and hours had passed by, Alexandre growing more and more impatient with his useless hackers while you were actually succeeding in your research, turns out that Sherlock Holmes is a very well-known man back home in England, pictures of him were all over the internet, even ones in that funny hat he hated so much. You giggled and could hardly wait to see the fellow again, you booked the earliest flight outgoing today and began to pack your things.

**Chapter 19: Another holiday**

Hurrying down the stairs and calling the driver to prep the car, you briefly saw Alex exit one of the rooms in a huff; he stopped at seeing you with packed bags and tilted his head "Where are you going?" he asked. Reaching the bottom you placed down your small suitcase, after Karachi you decided to make it even smaller and lighter, and the coat on top "I'm going on holiday, I need some time away from this place" you replied. Alex tilted his head suspiciously "Fine, don't get yourself in trouble" he kept a close eye on you as you walked over to him, kissing him on the cheek and returning to carry your small bag outside. He was curious but you had never betrayed him before, not that he knew anyway…

Home free and on your way to catch a plane, nothing could go wrong. You actually managed to put your small handheld into the compartments above in the plane with no struggle at all, although the flight was dull but worth it, you just hoped the detective would be as happy to see you as you were him.

The silence in 221B had gone on for long enough, John had started writing on his blog and Sherlock still hadn't moved from where he sat, he was just sitting there, most likely thinking. Watson could hardly take the silence anymore and spoke up, rather loudly, louder than usual "What's wrong with you? You've been all quiet and odd since returning from '_holiday_', what happened?" Sherlock snapped out of his mind at the loud noise, turning to John and blinking "What? Nothing, just a moment of weakness" Watson almost chuckled, sarcastically responding "Ha, what, don't tell me. You had more than two biscuits with your tea?"

The detective pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily "No, John. I may have…" he waved his hand as he tried to think of the word "… become arch-enemies with the art thief, his wife… was… uh" he paused, just realizing how idiotic he sounded. John chuckled, "What? You fancied her?" Sherlock quickly turned his head to look at him "What? No. Nothing of the sort, I- I'm not interested in 'feelings' and 'emotions' and whatever else relationships are" he wrinkled his nose. Watson nodded, amused and returned to his laptop "Admit it"

**Chapter 20: I will bury you alive**

Arriving at Heathrow airport midmorning, you couldn't wait to leave, too many people in one place was just a disaster. You'd found the Detective's address thanks to the Internet and his popularity, the newspapers swarmed around 221 Baker Street at one point. Hopefully the taxi journey would be rather peaceful.

Back in France, at Chateaux Montrel, the person in charge of the hacking team and surveillance had finally shaken the virus, being able to recover very little, but some of the CCTV footage. The grainy black and white picture was clear enough for Alex to see exactly what he wished he didn't, he was right there, entered via the front door thanks to your approval. You'd flirted with him for at least five minutes before the cameras showed exactly that you took him upstairs, into your bedroom. Alex was unsure on how he felt about seeing it; he was angry all over again. He huffed heavily and stood up straight from leaning on the table, turning and heading for the door he knocked over one of the computers onto the floor, not even caring for it.

While in the cab, admiring the many pictures and commented posted all over the web about the Detective, your phone rang, the caller ID showing Alexandre. You sighed heavily, not really wanting to talk to him but answered anyway, listening to him yelling down the phone "You double crossed me and that is going to cost you dearly, my love" his voice was quiet but filled with anger "I saw the CCTV footage." You gulped, just knowing that your betrayal wasn't going to go a miss, you would pay no matter what "You are very lucky you're away. If you ever come back, I will bury you alive" he hung up. Hopefully his anger would pass and he'd forgive you somehow, but either way, it was best to let the water settle.

Sherlock, at 221B, was now left alone, as John had left for work at the local surgery and Mrs. Hudson had popped out for some shopping. The doorbell rang while the Detective was busy, he really didn't want to rush down and meet a possible client, lately, the only cases presented to him were the boring ones, cheating partners and missing money wasn't his specialty. The bell rang again, clearly whoever it was –was eager to get their story told. He put down his violin and made his way downstairs, opening the door and shocked to see you smirking back at him "Hello, Mr. Holmes"

**Chapter 21: An unexpected surprise**

Sherlock could hardly believe it, he stood there blinking, making sure that he wasn't dreaming this nor had a serious bad concussion from a forgettable fall. You still stood there smirking, holding your case "Am I going to stand here all day or are you going to invite me in?" you asked. The detective shook his head, coming back from his thoughts and welcoming you inside "Oh, yes, apologies" he coughed, trying to think why you'd come. His eyes darted to the coat you were wearing as you entered; it was rather big on you… and identical to his Belstaf "Thank you for returning my coat but I have many, there was no need" You turned to face him and pulled the coat around yourself till it hugged your curves "You're very welcome. It's awfully cozy, if you're not interested in having it back, I'd gladly take it off your hands" you smirked, pulling up the collar and mimicking the way he wore it. Sherlock raised a brow but soon pointed to upstairs "Tea?" he asked, walking passed you and heading up to his flat. You followed behind, replying "Please"

Upon entering the flat, it was a lot different to what you had pictured his place to be like, although, the vintage grunge style was rather fitting. You placed down your case aside the sofa and walked around the room, admiring his selection of books and that eye-catching human bone on the mantel "Is that real?" you asked, pointing to the skull. Sherlock was now in the kitchen, already pouring the tea into two cups "Yes, friend of mine" he responded, picking up the mugs and handing one to you.

"We may have a problem" you blurted after taking a small sip from your tea. The detective refused to remember his mistake with you; he played stupid, for once, and pretended he had no idea what you were on about "Hmm? I don't know what you mean?" he blew over the top of his cup. You took a deep breath before telling him "Alexandre knows we slept together" you told, Sherlock disliked hearing him being involved in such a sentence, let alone the actions, he blinked, swallowing hard and trying to think of his response … "Oh, uhm" he was lost for words. You tapped your nail against the china mug and watched him "He wants us dead" you added, telling him how bad the situation actually was. Sherlock was unsure how to react "Very well, but I won't be dying any time soon, he can try all he wants" he spoke with much certainty and finished up his tea.

Now you had nowhere to go, here, 221B was your only choice "So, can I take a shower?" you asked, Sherlock returned to the kitchen with his cup, he waved his hand over towards the door at the far end "Yes, down the hall, on the left" he directed. It was probably best to let him think it over, no point in pressuring him, you took off his coat and placed it over the back of a dining-table chair, grabbed your case and wandered off towards the bathroom "Oh, do you have any comfy clothes I can borrow?" you asked before walking down the hall. Sherlock turned his head and frowned as he looked at you "Didn't you bring any clothes?" he glanced down at your case, you shrugged "I'd hate to wear my _little _things in case someone came in" you smirked, at hearing those words, Sherlock recalled the miniature clothing you wore on that night, he tried to shake the though quickly "Eh, yes. I will find something" he replied, turning back to the counter.

**Chapter 22: We're so dead**

Sherlock had managed to sort out some clothes, nothing fancy; he gave you a choice of various jumpers belonging to his flat mate. He'd also been pacing around 221B entirely while you showered, the situation was rather hot and he needed a plan, just in case your husband did send someone to kill you both.

A long half an hour passed, the detective stood in the middle of his living-room, his hands placed together under his chin and mindlessly staring at the wall when his flat mate, John, returned from work "Evening" he spoke as he entered and saw Sherlock, "Good evening" the detective responded, still keeping his train of thoughts. John wasn't even going to bother asking, he wandered off through the kitchen in direction of the bathroom. He opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks as the silhouette of a female body shadowed the shower curtain, he stood there blinking and then frowning as he closed the door and watched back into the living room "Sherlock, why is there a woman taking a shower in our flat?" he asked, awaiting an explanation.

Sherlock peered around at John, the words not quite registering that they were directed to him "Oh, uh, yes. That's (Your Name)" he paused, John nodded, crossing his arms across his chest and still waiting, the detective continued "That notorious art thief's wife" he added. John could hardly believe his ears; he threw his arms up in the air "What? You're housing his wife?! Are you trying to get us killed?!" he questioned unbelievably. Sherlock turned his body to face John and frowned at pointing out the obvious "No… he's an art thief not a murderer. Plus, on the bright side, he only wants to kill me and her, so you'll be fine" he waved his hand, reassuring him. Watson blinked, speechless at how idiotic his smart friend could be sometimes "Do you really think he's going to let me watch him kill you both and then I'll just be let free?" Sherlock shifted his eyes to the side momentarily, then returned them to his flat mate "Possibly"

Hopping out the shower and picking up the option of three jumpers given to you by Sherlock, you couldn't imagine him wearing any of these… so God knows where he'd gotten them from. Nonetheless, you chose the red Christmas looking one with white snowmen and snowflakes decorating it, luckily you'd brought leggings to accompany it. Exiting the bathroom in your comfy clothes and damp hair, the voices of two men arguing came from the living-room. Sherlock's eyes glanced over to you before John noticed and turned around. You turned to the short, dirty blonde haired man and smiled, about to introduce yourself when he turned back to the detective "Is that one of my jumpers?!" he asked. The whole fiasco was too much; John sighed and moved away into the kitchen, muttering to himself about how they both were going to get murdered thanks to the smart arse Sherlock Holmes.

**Chapter 23: Just a warning**

"Loves to overreact" Sherlock mentioned, putting his hands in his pockets and then pointing to the jumper "For once I actually like that jumper" he smirked, wandering passed you. The sound of a friendly female voice sounded from the hallway "It's just me boys, I brought tea" she spoke, entering the room and stopping in surprise as she saw you standing there with a lovely smile on your face. Sherlock and John both emerged from the kitchen, possibly both in a small, tiny panic that your husband may have sent a hit man able to mimic his landlady's voice. She looked over at John "Who's your lady friend?" she smirked. John shook his head, responding "She's Sherlock's lady friend" he informed her. The landlady was completely amazed but she'd always had a small bit of hope that he would find himself a companion "Oh, how lovely"

Elsewhere in London, Mycroft had received a call from a rather angry 'associate' of his, informing him of the rather large sum of money he was being offered to track down this Sherlock Holmes and kill him… "May I ask why? What has he done?" he questioned, the French voice on the other end replied through gritted teeth "He stole what was mine" it was time for a visit to 221B.

The evening passed quickly and before you knew it, it was gone six. Sherlock had twisted your arm in to playing _Cluedo_, John saw in his chair, reading the newspaper and trying to pretend it was all okay… Sherlock and yourself didn't seem all that bothered anymore, he was too busy enjoying beating you at his game, you hardly minded as you knew a game you'd beat him at. The sound of the doorbell rang, the three of you in 221B froze, lifting your heads and turning to look at the door leading into the flat, rather uneasily. Mrs. Hudson, downstairs, opened the door like usual to see Mycroft. The elder Holmes made his way up the stairs and opened the door, sending one of his fake smiles all round. You tilted your head, recognizing this man "Monsieur Clyde?" you spoke in a questionable tone. Mycroft turned his head back to you and nodded "Miss. LeMatteu, lovely to see you again" Sherlock frowned, wrinkling his nose and looking from you to his brother "_Clyde_? What?"

Mycroft nodded, explaining to both sides "My name is not Clyde, (Your Name); I am Sherlock's elder brother and certainly not a jewel thief. And Sherlock, I have business outside the British Empire, keeping my eye on the most powerful ones" He straightened up. You crossed your arms over your chest "How's Roselle?" you asked, Sherlock and John were beyond lost at this point, Mycroft smirked and responded "She's very well. We spoke last night, she gladly informed me about the intruder upstairs" he smirked, turning to look at Sherlock, he continued to look smug as he spoke seriously "I received a phone call not an hour ago from your husband, Miss LeMatteu, he offered me a lovely amount of money for both of your heads" he informed. Everyone stayed quiet, just looking up to Mycroft and listening "I suggest you both keep an extremely low profile and be aware of everyone around you. No doubt, Alexandre will send someone to kill you" he assured, secretly, he was actually enjoying this. Sherlock blinked, "Really? Clyde is the best false name you could think of?" he chuckled. Mycroft sighed, sending him an unwelcoming glare "Shut up, Sherlock"

**Chapter 24: Awkward conversations**

The entire situation was nerve (w)racking for poor John Watson, he'd been to war in the army but never wished or wanted to experience some kind of torture or painful death due to knowing two wanted people, wanted dead by an art thief for some reason… wait, he didn't even know why. The dirty blonde haired man frowned as he stared down at the fireplace. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, in front of John and watching him, speaking when he saw his expression "Oh, please. It's physically painful to watch you think"

John lifted his head and looked over at him, moving in his chair to get comfy and lacing his fingers together in his lap "Why?" he asked, "Why are you and her in so much trouble with her husband? What did you do?" he questioned. Sherlock lifted his head with interest, narrowing his eyes and pondering whether to tell him… Since you were away, busy upstairs, unpacking your things as you were going to move in to John's room while he took the sofa, "It was a moment of weakness, John, like I told you before. She's rather smart and seductive; I thought I could possibly use her mistakes to my advantage… but it got out of hand. I did some regrettable things and don't wish to do them again" he explained. Watson nodded slowly; the explanation hadn't been much of an actual _explanation_ "Right… So what did you do to get yourselves in this mess?" he asked again.

Sherlock sighed heavily at this point and ran his fingers across his brows "I- We- we… did things" he blurted, keeping it simple. Yet, John was none the wiser; Sherlock was… an odd man, never interested in relationships of the many things in life that most men did. So there was an honest list of millions of possible 'things' he could have done to upset a person, and most weren't odd "Okay, right" John spoke, sitting up in his chair properly and waving his finger "So what exactly was it?" It was no use, the Detective sighed with defeat and just… blurted it, the simplest way "We had intercourse"

John sat there, blinking and then bursting into childish giggles "Yeah, right" but the seriousness on Sherlock's face didn't read as a lie, Watson managed to control his laugher "Really? Oh. Well I can see why her husband would be mad" the situation after that became rather awkward and they sat in silence until you returned.

**Chapter 25: Sleepless night**

Watson had been trying to understand just how his flat mate, the man who has no emotions and couldn't care less for human contact, manage to… do the dirty with you, yeah okay, he had to admit you were pretty attractive and probably had your perks, but still, that question remained.

Sighing happily, you'd finished rearranging the small bedroom upstairs in which you were going to sleep in, all you clothes were neatly put away and room was now perfect so you went back downstairs, walking in to the flat and breaking the silence with the sound of your feet walking on wooden floor, you stopped in the middle of the two and decided to comment "I read your blog, John, it's very interesting. I hadn't realized just how fun being a detective was" you turned to smirk at Sherlock before looking back at his blogger; John lifted his head from the laptop and smiled "Really? Thanks" he replied. Not many things were said after that, they'd both sort of, left you hanging right there, not saying anything else… You decided to awkwardly move away, going into the kitchen and idly pottering around. Sherlock watched you from his chair, he didn't know why he absentmindedly averted his gaze to you when you weren't looking, he just did, observing you and trying to form a solid deduction to pass the time.

The art thief's life had seemed to fall to pieces ever since this man he now knew as Sherlock Holmes had waltzed his way into your life, somehow, stealing you away from right under his nose. He was becoming rather depressed, but he was always a man of little emotion for others, expect you. Irene Adler was still 'living' there with him, slowly becoming his right hand man, or woman in this case, she always knew how to lighten the mood and taking your husband away from you would be just a small piece of revenge in her own scheming mind.

The night had drew in quickly, Sherlock had no intentions of retiring to bed, he had an appointment with his mind palace and a certain violin for most the night, so John himself had very little chance of getting any sleep. He'd gone downstairs and asked the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, if he could kip on her sofa, to which she happily agreed. You remained sitting on the sofa, admiring the Detective play and losing yourself in the notes of his beautiful melody. Hours and hours seemed to pass and it soon got to midnight, exactly when Sherlock put down his instrument and turned to you as you clapped and giggled "You're a much more interesting man than I expected, Detective" Sherlock nodded, giving a small smirk "Thank you. Hmm, perhaps it's time for bed?" he suggested, maybe he wanted to get rid of you so he could think in solitude or wanted you to accompany him? You stood up and wandered over towards him, leaving very little distance between your bodies as you looked up at his, as he was exceedingly taller "Was that an offer or a statement?" you whispered. Sherlock took in a small, sharp breath and stared down at you, his lips gaping unwillingly "What?" he blinked "N- no, I wasn't suggesting…" you smirked, placing your finger on his lips, shushing him "A strong man like yourself must have a bed for two, right?" you stood on your tip-toes, now only a little taller, but enough for his eyes to get distracted once again "T- that has nothing to do with my choice of beds. Your attempt at flattery isn't going to work"

You smirked, moving your arms slowly around his neck "It was worth a try" the Detective didn't seem to mind your current position with him, though, he wasn't going to respond to it "Go to bed" he spoke. You pouted your lips, leaning up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek before moving away "Goodnight"

**Chapter 26: An inner child**

You had retreated to bed, unknowing whether it would be your last night on Earth since Alex had planned to have you killed, that was a side of him you didn't know existed, he had never hurt anyone before, just stole paintings and wonderful art, yet now he couldn't care less. There was no way you could sleep in this dark room, sounds of the pipework and people outside tormenting you. Turning your head to look at the clock it read 3:35am, maybe a glass of water would sooth your nerves. You got out of bed and trailed out of the bedroom, carefully walking down the stairs and trying not to make any noise. You can't say you were wearing nightclothes, John's jumper provided by Sherlock and your underwear sufficed.

Entering 221B, the flat was pitch black and quiet, something that would usually be pleasing but not in these circumstances. You found your way into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. The door down the far end of the hall slowly opened, leaving it ajar as the Detective peeked out to see who was up. The light outside shone through the window, creating the figure of a woman on the floor, observing the proportions of the shadow, he was able to relate it to you. He left his room, slowly entering the kitchen and seeing you leaning against the counter.

A smile grew on your face as the Detective had emerged from his bedroom in, possibly, nothing more than that sheet he had wrapped around his body, his hair was messy, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night. He sat down at the table in the kitchen and looked up at you, as if expecting you to hand him his breakfast or possibly a cup of tea. His eyes were half closed, but open enough for you to see, it was obvious he was tired and wanting to sleep, but something was keeping him awake, he had the eyes of a troubled man.

You tilted your head and smiled, taking another sip from your glass and watching him. He didn't say anything, just blinked and continued to look over at you. Putting down the glass, you went over and stopped aside of him, running your fingers through his curls. Your touch was reassuring and familiar, comforting and calming him. He leaned over towards you, resting his head against your stomach and closing his eyes, he was at ease. After a couple of minutes of playing with his hair, he lifted his head and stood up, taking your hand and pulling you gently along the hall, down to his bedroom.

It was such a childish thing to do and even admit, he was scared, he couldn't sleep for fear of not waking up, the dark had been tormenting him as well, although he had managed to fall asleep at one point, nightmares had haunted him, causing him to wake up and struggle. You weren't entirely sure what he was doing, or what he wanted from you but you followed. He let go of your hand when inside his bedroom and closed the door. Taking your hand again, he crawled into bed, settling down and tugging on you to follow, you did. His bed was a lot softer than the one upstairs and much cozier, not to mention the company was extremely welcoming. Sherlock cuddled up to you, resting his head down on your chest and his arm over your waist, closing his eyes he mumbled tiredly "Play with my hair"

You silently giggled, it was so childish, idiotic and pathetic, all the words Sherlock would describe it as, but for you, it was cute. You ran your fingers through his locks and ruffled them gently; reassuring him that someone was there to protect the young child inside him from the night.

**Chapter 27: A small panic**

Morning arrived quickly after being up half the night; Sherlock hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fell asleep in peace on you, his mind was at ease and didn't feel like waking. You had managed to fall asleep not long after him, his warm body kept yours warm.

John had woke up around eight that morning, he'd slept like a log giving the circumstances and was now finishing up his full English breakfast cooked for him by Mrs. Hudson, "That was bloody lovely" he commented, pushing his empty plate away from him and sitting back in his chair. The elderly woman smirked and tided up the mess, glad that her cooking was enjoyed once again. Watson finished off his tea and sighed happily "Right, I best go and see if Sherlock's up" he paused, "It's been awfully quiet…" he gulped and looked up towards the ceiling, what if someone had assassinated you both in the night? Worry overtook his emotions and he darted out of 221A, upstairs to what was his bedroom and opened the door, the bedroom was empty and no signs of blood… you could have possibly been downstairs… or someone had kidnapped you and disposed of your body elsewhere… John hurried back down the stairs and rushed in to 221B, the flat was quiet; it was just gone 9am so maybe Sherlock hadn't got up yet, but still, your presence was mysteriously gone. He rushed down the small hall and opening the Detectives bedroom door in a huff, sighing with relief at seeing you both, but still feeling awkward as he stared down at you looking up at him and playing with Sherlock's hair "Good morning" you smirked . Watson nodded, averting his gaze down to the floor "Morning" he spoke, slowly closing the door.

Not ten minutes later, Sherlock woke up, slowly blinking and grunting as he tried to figure out what was itching his face, he saw a red jumper and then noticed the tops of your thighs and the black pair of panties you wore… he frowned and lifted his head to see you smiling at him, pushing his bangs out of his face "Good morning, sleepy head" Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, he'd hoped that he had dreamt what he thought happened last night, but clearly he didn't "Good morning" he replied, pulling away from you and falling down onto his cold pillow "Apologies for last night. I- I wasn't entirely conscious of my actions" You rolled over and peeked over his shoulder "It's okay, I couldn't sleep either... But don't worry, I won't tell your flat mate about your inner child" you giggled. Sherlock smirked, closing his eyes and settling back down.

You, on the other hand, decided it was time to get up and face the day. Grabbing one of the dressing gowns on the back of the door, you slipped it on and made your way out, greeting John once again and parking yourself in Sherlock's chair and smiling over at the Blogger. Watson felt a little uneasy by the smile on your face and tried to avoid eye contact "Uh, so, despite being married to an art thief, I'm guessing you and Sherlock have a complicated relationship" The smirk on your face grew as you laughed "Relationship? I simply showed him what a special man gets in my line of work" Watson affirmed, sort of lost, "And what's you line of work?" he asked. You stood up and walked over to him, leaning down as you rested our hands on the arms of his chair "Dominating the submissive" you spoke with a sensual tone in your voice.

The Detective had crawled out of bed, slipping into his PJ's and grabbing a robe. He made his way into the living-room, just about hearing your whispers as you made his flat mate uneasy "Down girl" he commented playfully as he walked by and sat down in his chair. You stood up, crossing your arms and sent the Detective a cheeky smile "Since when did we swap roles?" Sherlock smirked, not saying anything else; John coughed awkwardly and shifted in his chair continuing to blog before heading out to work.

**Chapter 28: A tedious attempt**

After John had left, you and Sherlock were alone. The Detective did what he usually did, check his emails and hope for a challenge or a murder, but it was the usual 'spam' he hated with a passion. You had nothing better to do than rummage through the kitchen, observing his experiments and wonderful ways to ruin nice looking china with human parts, but that soon got boring, so you retreated upstairs for some peace and quiet, perhaps sort out some nice outfits while you were at it.

Downstairs not half an hour later, an odd sound came from the Detective's bedroom, the sound of the wooden floor creaking underweight. Sherlock stopped typing and turned his head in that direction, standing up and slowly approaching the kitchen doors. A shadow blocked the light visible in the small creak between door and floor, someone was in there… but you were upstairs and John would certainly never set foot in the Detective's room. Sherlock lifted his head, intrigued by the presence and approached the bedroom door.

The door opened and the swing of a sword came towards Sherlock, he'd managed to duck down just in time to avoid the blow. He backed up out of the hallway and into the kitchen, a robed figure with his face covered and a sword in hand followed; taking aimless swings as warnings. The intruder had backed the Detective up against the sofa in the living-room, taking another swing at him; Sherlock dropped down onto the sofa into the sitting position and raised his leg, kicking the attacker away. As the man stumbled back, Sherlock got to his feet and headed in his direction.

Slipping into a lacey black dress and admiring the way it hugged your body, you frowned at the thought of hearing a struggle, listening carefully there was another loud sound of movement, it was certainly odd… You peeked out of the door to the bedroom you were in, everything looked fine… but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Sherlock and the assassin had moved back into the kitchen, a tight grip on the attacker's wrists is the only thing from keeping the sword slitting his throat. The Detective grimaced with effort and tried to push the man's wrists up and away from him. The sound of the kitchen door opening caught Sherlock's attention. You jumped and nearly screamed at the sight of the struggle, picking up the first thing at hand and smashing it over the attackers head, sending him backwards disorientated. Sherlock lifted himself off the table and took the advantage to swing a powerful uppercut to the man's chin; the attacker fell backwards over the back of John's chair and ended up on the floor unconscious.

You could hardly believe it, someone had broken in and attacked the Detective and it was most likely by Alexandre's will. Sherlock huffed and looked at his reflection in the mirror, straightening his jacket and cuffs and brushing off any dust collected in the duel "Thank you for your assistance" he spoke. You nodded and looked down at the man "Er, what do we do with the body?" you asked. Sherlock looked back down in distaste at the fellow and took out his phone "Send him to a hospital" he began to dial the number for Scotland Yard, "Detective Inspector Lestrade? Yes, there was an attempt on my life not two minutes ago and I advise you call an ambulance… No, no. I'm fine, the attacker on the other hand…" he looked down towards the already smoldering fabric around his head, "… he may have second, possibly third degree burns if you take too long" he hung up. You blinked, "W- what was in that jar?" you asked, turning to look in the kitchen at the chemistry set on the table. The Detective replied "Hydrofluoric Acid, and a tongue… which now is nonexistent thanks to the acid"

**Chapter 29: How dare thy**

Around lunchtime John returned from work, sighing and entering the flat, he dropped his coat down onto the sofa and looking around the room, suspecting something had happened in his absence but he couldn't tell what. You sat at the table in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and an ashtray aside of you, your red lipstick tainting the bud with every puff. Sherlock stood aside you at the table, experimenting with acids and human parts, like he always did.

Sniffing the air, John could tell someone was smoking, he was almost furious thinking it was his flat mate once again "Sherlock, how many times have I…" he was stopped as he entered the kitchen and saw that it actually wasn't his flat mate, but you "… Oh, sorry" he spoke. You smiled over to him and Sherlock greeted him "Good afternoon, don't worry, it's not me" Watson nodded "I know, sorry" he entered the room and stood the other side of the table, looking down at the monstrosity of things in bowls and disgusting liquids placed around the table.

Looking up at the Detective you pursed your lips and slowly blew the smoke up to his face, and taking a deep breath through his nose, Sherlock happily settled with second hand smoke. John shook his head and looked up at him, doing a double take as the odd color of passionate red stained the side of his bottom lip "You've got a bit of…" he paused, pointing to the side of his own mouth to signify it, then it hit him "Wait, you've been smoking! You've been sharing a cigarette, you have her lipstick on you lip!" he explained. Sherlock lifted his head, gapping his mouth at his Bloggers suddenly amazing observation, yet he was correct 100%, but he couldn't let John think he was "She forced me" he defended, "Like she forces many other things" he continued. You looked up at him in shock but soon smiled "I didn't hear you complaining about anything I've forced on you"

In the vast circles of criminals, gossip got around quickly. Alexandre was furious that his hit man had not done his job; he was as useless as the rest of people he employed. Another criminal, well known in London to the right people named Moriarty, James Moriarty to be specific, had heard about the attempts on his favorite Detective's life, he can't say he was angry or happy about it… but Sherlock Holmes was his partner in the games they played and he certainly didn't want someone taking him out. It was time for a minor investigation into the pointing finger.

**Chapter 30: Just a suggestion**

Mycroft, or _Clyde_ as he's known as amongst the scum of the world known as criminals, had kept Alexandre extremely close, keeping in contact and making sure he knew all his plans on how to destroy the human being who stole his wife. Irene had never met this _Clyde_ and it's lucky she hadn't or the cover would have been blown, although, she would never purposely hurt the man she'd fallen in love with, that being Sherlock Holmes. She was constantly whispering in Alexandre's ear and reminding him just how it was your fault, you brought him to Paris, you took him up to bed, you caused it all, hopefully, his anger for you would exceed Sherlock's and you'd be disposed of, leaving Alex _and _Sherlock for her, the perfect revenge for a broken hearted woman.

You had to admit, the attempt on Sherlock's life had shaken you up a bit, he had nearly died and maybe you were next! Alex had contacts nearly all over the globe so wherever you decided to go, you'd be followed until you'd been taken care of, leaving your body untraceable, then it came to you… "Sherlock" you spoke, looking over at him sitting in his own chair, his fingers forming a steeple shape under his chin "What if we get rid of Alex?" you suggested. John lifted his head out of his laptop and looked over to you "What? Murder?!" he stressed. The Detective sighed, "It is an option, but I solve murders, not commit them" he explained. John stood up, taking his laptop with him "Right, if you two want to talk about murder, I'd rather not know" he demanded, heading towards the door and leaving, shouting back once it was closed "I'm going to my room" You furrowed your brows, yelling back "Where am I supposed to sleep?!" Watson's voice got quieter but just could be heard saying with a hint of sarcasm "With Sherlock! You both looked comfy this morning"

Sherlock didn't seem to pay any attention to his flat mate, continuing thinking and speaking quietly "I- I may know someone who could help, but it's a longshot…" he shook his head "I'll think about it" he huffed, standing up and picking up his violin "I suggest you get some sleep, tomorrow maybe a busy day"

**Chapter 31: A perfect plan**

The night had soon gone and day light shone through the curtains in Holmes bedroom, birds chirped and a warm breeze flowed through, making the curtains dance in the wind, it felt like a lovely summer morning. You turned over onto your back and stretched out your arms and looked to your side, seeing the back someone's head; messy curls, it could only belong to one person, Sherlock Holmes. You can't say you were saddened by your new lifestyle; it was actually everything you'd ever wanted, although art was your passion.

You hopped out of bed and not cared for clothing, your underwear was enough and it was already passed 10am so hopefully John would have left by now, but an unexpected visitor waited in the living-room, sighing and looking at his watch as his assistant kept track of any incoming calls outside the flat "Good morning, Miss. LeMatteu, nice of you to finally get up. Where's Sherlock?" he asked, his recognizable voice sounding from the living-room. You wandered over, a grin curving your lips as you leaned against the kitchen door frame, smiling down at the elder Holmes "In bed" you responded to his question. Mycroft smirked, but then looked away "Perhaps you could put some clothes on?" he suggested. Giggling, you wandered over and sat down in Sherlock arm chair "Oh it's nothing you haven't seen before is it?" you winked.

The Detective in his bedroom, as soon as he woke up, he noticed the lack of weight and warmth in his bed signifying you'd left the bedroom. It was if he needed you, like you were a part of him, like an organ or a limb, he needed you to feel at ease, some special effect that you seemed to have over him. He had summed it up to the 'games' you'd both played back in Paris; it had given him the will to give him emotions. Sighing as his brain worked on eliminating these emotions, he crawled out of bed, preparing to face whatever Alex threw at him today. The last thing he was expecting was to see his brother as he entered the room "Ah, Sherlock. About time you got up" he commented, looking up at his younger sibling grimace and yawn. The Detective was hardly in the mood for a social visit "What do you want, Mycroft?" he asked, getting straight to the point "Very well, dear brother. I have received information that Alexandre plans on stealing the crown jewels. I'm unsure about the source but it's best to take precautions" he continued, "Alexandre will be in the country in two days, I advise you both to come with me and be put into witness protection until this petty fight is over" Sherlock interrupted, butting in the conversation as he spoke seriously "Do nothing. If anything, drop the level of security on London Tower. I promise you that the crown jewels will not be stolen, but you have to trust me on this"

Mycroft disrespected his younger brother's requests, but Sherlock was smart, not as smart as him of course, but still, smarter than the average. He trusted him on this occasion, after the Detective had promised to keep him in the loop as he put his plan into motion. First things first, he had to make sure his co-partner in the plan was willing to play along… when the crown jewels were involved, he would no doubtingly.

**Chapter 32: Locating**

After the brief 'reunion' between brothers and dominatrix, Sherlock got to work, contacting his homeless network all over London in search for one person, that one person who was hard to find when not playing a game and extremely popular when was, that person being his archenemy, James Moriarty.

"So, you have a network full of homeless people who happily help you do whatever you need?" you asked, looking up at the wall behind the sofa as Sherlock had filled it with papers and a huge map of London, noting the time and date of Jim's every last position, "Hm?" he hummed questionable, then answered "Yes, for a fee of course. I pay them to be discreet and get the information I need." He explained. You nodded, grinning as you stood aside him at the desk "How did you sleep last night?" you asked, running your fingers through his curls.

The Detective sighed at your sudden change of topic, "Fine, thank you" he replied, continuing to feel the soft brushes of your fingers through his hair. It was amusing, yet saddening that he hadn't cuddled up to you last night, but maybe he would if you told him it was okay to "I was rather lonely on my side of your bed" you spoke softly, running your hands across his shoulders and wrapping them around his neck as you leaned down and rested your head against his "Maybe I could cuddle you tonight?" you smirked "Do you mind?" he huffed, "Did you know that you snore and sometimes twitch your nose a few seconds before?" he was now changing topic "I didn't know you watched me sleep" you whispered against his head "Is that your fetish? Watching me sleep?" you asked, taking a small nibble of his earlobe. He huffed and removed your hands from exploring his chest "I don't have _fetishes_, and I'm not interested in exploring or developing any" he defended, getting to his feet and sticking a piece of paper on the wall. Not feeling the slightest bit insulted, you continued "You like it when someone runs their fingers through your hair, I suppose that could be a fetish, then again, it's not very sexual" you lifted a finger to your lips and hummed thoughtfully "Maybe I could ruffle your curls and pull them hard next time we…" Sherlock turned around, placing his finger against your lips and shushing you before you could finish "There won't be a next time. Once this tedious argument with your husband is over, you can return to your lap of luxury" he affirmed.

Just thinking about it, you didn't want to return… you rather liked the new lifestyle of dangerous living and the mysterious man Sherlock Holmes being part of it. Before, your life was dull. Alex wouldn't let you do anything except for batting your eyelashes at the enemy and keeping them sweet while he stole something… and if Alexandre did end up diseased, your life would be even duller than before.

**Chapter 33: One step closer**

An incoming text alert sounded as Sherlock took out his phone and smirked at it "Brilliant" he simply commented, putting it away and walking over to the wall, circling a place on the London map. He had actually been doing that for the past hour, you sat in silent in his chair, watching him from a distance and wondering what he was planning.

John returned from upstairs all scrubbed up and smelling of aftershave "Right, I'm going out. I don't know what time I'll be back so try not to plan murder while I'm gone" Sherlock barely acknowledged the man as he was lost in his mind palace, but you did, sending him a smirk and waving him off "I promise I'll be on my best behavior" Watson was still rather nervous around you for some odd reason, maybe it was the fact that you'd somehow broken Sherlock Holmes singlehandedly, he didn't say much else, just left.

"Fancy dinner?" the Detective randomly blurted as he pinned another paper to the wall. You looked around at him; there was no one else in the room so it had to be directed to you "Dinner? Where?" you asked, Sherlock turned on the spot and hopped down off the sofa "Hmm, there's a lovely Chinese restaurant down Frith Street. Good quality and not too expensive" he suggested. Pondering over it for a second you agreed, sliding off the armchair and going to get ready.

Now you were out the way, he could sit and think of the final stage of his plan, well, the first plan before having to think of a second. You'd returned not fifteen minutes later in Sherlock's silver blue dressing gown and held two dresses against your figure "What color shirt are you planning to wear?" you asked. Distracted by your talking, Sherlock lifted his head in direction of the sound "What? Does it matter?" He frowned. You nodded, holding the dresses out for him to see "Yes, depending on what color you're wearing, I will wear one dress or the other" you explained.

Sighing distressingly and pointing to the dress you held in your right hand "Wear that one. My shirts are in the second draw in the dresser go find something you think will accompany it" he informed. Now back to alone and planning, his mind seemed foggy, cloudier than usual and it was hard to keep on topic, but he had to.

**Chapter 34: Dinner**

Now returning from the bedroom fully dressed and ready to go, Sherlock picked up his necessary gadgets and coat before leaving. The journey to the restaurant via taxi didn't take that long, arriving outside you both hopped out and went inside. Greeted by the hostess and lead to a table, you couldn't recall the last time you had Chinese, it had been too long "You certainly know how to treat a lady, don't you Mr. Holmes" you smirked, sitting opposite him.

Sherlock glanced around the place, he had been here once or twice before but not in a while "I wouldn't say I knew how to, but there's a string of common things all females like" Your smirk grew as you watched him "Really?" you questioned, slipping your foot out of your heel "There's a string of common things all men like too" you bit your lip, trailing your foot up his leg until resting it between his legs on the chair. Gulping and taking a sip of the ordered wine he began to feel a tad uneasy "W- well, maybe, probably." You were a seductive woman and very good one at that; it was hard to resist temptation… Frowning as he picked up his glass again and looked inside it, maybe you'd slipped some sort of sedative into his drink, causing him to feel this way.

"Are you all right?" You asked, "You're looking a little flushed" He didn't reply, just pushed his chair out "I'll be back in a second" he informed, before heading towards the men's bathroom and splashing some cold water onto his face. The meals arrived while he was away and you'd already tucked in by the time he returned "Feeling better?" you smiled over at him "Uh, yes. A minor situation arose" Amused by his choice of words, you just had to ask "Literally or metaphorically?"

**Chapter 35: Temptation**

"Enough, we have to talk about some things" he spoke seriously as he started to eat his food, "Alexandre is going to be in the country very soon and…" the sound of your purring like a kitten interrupted his warning "Aw, Sherlock. Do you care about me?" you fluttered your eyelashes towards him. The Detective sighed heavily, angrily chomping his food before swallowing "No. You're simply a misleading woman who's wormed her way into my life and got me in trouble" ignoring his words, you pouted "Shall we skip dinner and go for dessert?"

"No, shut up and listen to me" he demanded in an angry whisper, leaning over the table towards you "You're going to have to check in to a hotel, it will be too dangerous at 221B…" he explained. You leaned forward, closer to him as he had to you "I like it when you're in charge" Sherlock rolled his eyes, perhaps him being demanding will keep you listening "Good. Well, listen to me then, right where was I? Oh, 221B will be too dangerous. Mycroft will be keeping a close eye on you just in case your husband sends someone after you"

Nodding and understanding, yet, you didn't really care for the plans or ideas, the night was perfect and the company exquisite. Being married never led to dates and romantic evenings, so the change was nice, you wanted to embrace it while you had it "Sherlock?" you whispered, running the tip of your finger around the top of the wineglass "Are you doing all of this purely because your life is in danger, or are you doing it for me?" you asked. There had always been a … _twinkle_ in his eyes since the day he saw you again on the doorstep of 221, it was a certain twinkle you knew as attraction, as many men you'd met in the business seemed to possess it. The Detective remained silent for a couple of seconds before speaking "For me… and you, as we are both in this mess, I don't believe that you deserve to die for making that mistake" he gulped and took his dinner jacket off "Is it hot in here?" he then asked. Smirking and rather '_excited_' as you were, you bit your lip and watched him suffer as his mind was fighting off the sexual thoughts that randomly came to him when admiring you "I think we've both taken something we shouldn't have. I'm rather… hot and bothered, aren't you Detective?"

Picking up his glass again and blinking as he looked into it "Did you drug me?" he asked, putting it down and looking in disbelief, more over the fact that he hadn't noticed it sooner than that he'd been drugged by you "I thought we could both be in need of some relaxation after all the stress" you explained. Shaking his head, Sherlock lifted his arm and signaled the waitress, ordering the bill and taking out his wallet "We're leaving" he simply stated, putting down a fifty pound note for a forty pound meal "Are you going to get your change?" you asked as he stood up and slipped his jacket back on "No, come on" he picked up his coat and grabbed your hand, leading you of out the restaurant in rather a hurry.

**Chapter 36: Sedatives**

Arriving back home at 221B, Sherlock hurried you inside, throwing his jacket down onto the sofa as he entered. You nibbled your lip, keeping a firm hold on his hand as he led you into the kitchen "Sit" he spoke and you obeyed, amazed as he gazed around at you and smirked "Good girl" he winked before heading off into the bathroom.

Aching as you was, you couldn't wait to have him again, properly this time and letting him do whatever he wanted to you… just thinking about it was causing a craving. Sherlock returned and poured a glass of water, dissolving the contents of a pill in it before turning around and handing it to you "Wouldn't want you passing out in the middle of it, would we" he smirked. He was certainly preparing for a long night; you took it and sipped it, grimacing at the taste but accepting.

Not a minute later, a wave of tiredness and exhaustion overcame you for some odd reason. You could hardly keep your eyes open "W-wha…" you spoke, but couldn't seem to finish the sentence. Sherlock helped your up out of the chair and into the bedroom, laying you down on the bed, rather relieved that you were no longer tempting him "Goodnight" he whispered, pulling the sheets over your body for comfort.

John had no idea what time it was when he stumbled in the door of his and Sherlock's flat, he was a little disappointed with his date but enjoyed it anyway, it was a laugh. He switched on the light to the dark flat and nearly jumped at the sight of his flat mate sitting in the dark "Sherlock?" he questioned, taking his coat off and hanging it up "Why are you sitting in the dark?" the Detective opened his eyes and looked over at him, crossing his legs and shifting in his chair "No reason" he replied, leaving it at that. Watson nodded, always agreeing with him no matter how bizarre "Right, good. I'm going to get a glass of water then going to bed"

Wondering for a moment, Sherlock decide to speak up "How long does a sexual enhancing drug last before the effects wear off?" Returning from the kitchen, John stood still, letting his brain process that sort of question "Uh, about several hours… why?" he asked, knowing he would most likely regret it "(Your Name) slipped one into my drink earlier and the effects are extremely uncomfortable" he stressed "I have this sudden urge to-" at this point, John had lifted his hand "No! I don't want to know" Sherlock looked up at him confusingly "I was going to say solve a murder!"

**Chapter 37: Watson and his questions**

Awaking from your slumber the next morning, you felt as if you'd been hit over the head with a brick or you'd been severely drunk. Untangling yourself from the sheets was nearly impossible but you managed it, noticing you were still dressed from last night. The daylight coming through the window burned your eyes, causing you to wince at the pain and not bother with changing as you exited the bedroom.

It being midday on Watson's day off, he was at home, in the living-room alongside Sherlock, both staring at the wall covered in papers and narrowing down his arch-enemy's location "So what are you going to do exactly?" John questioned as he looked at the Detective who looked back at him "About what? When I find Moriarty or about (Your Name)?" Watson thought about it for a second before deciding "Uh, both?" Nodding, Sherlock explained what he knew already "Well, I'm unsure with Moriarty, I've yet to plan it and with (Your Name), she will probably leave and go back to Paris" he looked back towards the wall, a look of gloom in his eye. John acknowledged "Why don't you ask her to stay, obviously she'll have nothing left by the time you've finished doing whatever it is you're going to do and it's kind of obvious you two are as cunning as each other"

Overhearing their conversation made you grin so wide, instantly forgetting the misunderstanding last night, but still he'd played you at your own game and that was cheeky. Entering the living-room with your arms crossed, messy hair and dress, not to mention your make-up "Well played Detective" you spoke.

Both men turned around and blinked as they saw you, "You look awful" Sherlock blurted, not intending to speak his mind "Uh, awfully nice" he corrected himself. Smirking as you took a few steps inside you whispered "Nice save" He smiled and looked down to the floor, speaking low "Thank you" Watson stood idly watching "What happened?" he decided to ask, his brain mentally slapping him. Your smirk remained as you turned your head to look at him "Sherlock tricked me into taking some sort of sleeping pills" you explained, the Detective soon spoke, defending himself "You drugged me first! The effects of what you gave me were far worse than sleeping." The smirk curved your lips even more "So you admit you felt the same way as I did last night"

John was always the third wheel in the conversations between the three of you, it was always arguing and teasing, flirting and eye-love making between the pair of you until bedtime. Maybe one day you'll both get it out of your system and get together or just sleep with one another until the temptations gone, like normal people. At least that would be a lot easier on John's behalf and his regrettable questions.

**Chapter 38: Billy**

Today was the day, despite the small argument? Was it even an argument? It consisted of smirks and dirty looks exchanged between both you and Sherlock, well anyway, John shook his head and got rid of the thought "I'm going to go and get some shopping, is there anything you both need?" he asked as he picked his coat up, about to leave. You and the Detective replied in unison, "No" and with that, John nodded and left.

An incoming text alert sounded and Sherlock whipped out his phone, smirking as he opened the photo attachment showing a rather mysterious looking man in a suit and sunglasses, chewing gum, scrolling down there was a phone number. The Detective's smirk grew even wider; he looked at the senders name, Billy, and instantly text him back, telling him to come over and good work.

Excited as he was, Sherlock rushed off to his room and got dressed "I advise you to change" he suggested, yelling out of his open bedroom door. You sighed and walked back over to it, standing in the door way as you watched him undress "I'm quite happy watching you change" you smirked, getting an eyeful of that perfectly shaped rear. The Detective managed to slip into his underwear before turning his head to look at you "Do you mind?"

After watching a rather pleasing sight of Sherlock getting dressed, you wandered off to take a shower and prepare yourself for the day. As you got out and wrapped a towel around your dripping body you realized you had no clean clothes to put on, how depressing. You left the bathroom, holding the towel around your body as you entered the living-room to find a youngish man with dirty, light brown hair sitting on the sofa and Sherlock standing aside him "Oh" Sherlock spoke as he lifted his head to see you "Billy, (Your Name). (Your Name), Billy" he introduced you both. The fellow stood up and took off his rugged hat "I- it's a pleasure to meet you" he spoke nervously. The Detective sighed heavily, tilting his head back "Oh, please. She's just like any other woman but with a brain" he explained, "And good looks" Billy blurted unintentionally, but it had to be said.

A smirk curved your lips as you listened to them both complementing you in their own way, "Very well boys. Now, can I have some clothes?" you turned to look at the Detective, "Yes, go in my room and find something, I don't care what it is as long as it isn't my best shirts which are in the wardrobe, everything else I don't care for." He waved his hand tiredly and collected his things up, beckoning Billy to come over "I'm going out, I want you to stay here and look after (Your Name), make sure she doesn't escape and if any problems arise, call me" Billy nodded, placing his hand over his heart "I will protect her with my life, sir"

Rolling his eyes dramatically and sighing, Sherlock slipped into his coat, pulling up the collar until the tips pointed in the right way and left.

**Chapter 39: Game time**

Inside the cab and now travelling to the outskirts of London, Sherlock sent a text the number Billy had managed to find: _You've been quiet lately. I'm bored, meet me, Millennium Mills outskirts South London. I want to play a game. -SH_

James Moriarty can't say he had been doing much lately; he was slowly planning his next murder and little riddles for his playmate. Well, he was until his day job got in the way, working as an executive for a mercenary company in West London, although, it did help keep track of his playthings. The sound of his phone rang; he was always unsure whether it was a message or a phone call as he kept the same ringtone for both '_Stayin' Alive_' by Bee Gees, he began to sing along to the song as he took out his phone and clicked open.

Moriarty, known as the Consulting Criminal, let his jaw drop before grinning manically; it was like a dream come true. Sherlock Holmes wanted to play a game. He jumped up from his chair and grabbed his coat, replying to the text immediately: _Coming, dear. -JM_

The cab driver was skeptical about heading down to one of the poorest parts of London, abandoned buildings surrounding the area and homeless no doubtingly habiting them, he couldn't imagine why a well-dressed, classy looking fellow would want to go there, but who was he to question, he was paid to do his job "That'll be 26 quid, mate" Sherlock slid out of the cab and paid the driver, waiting for him to leave before entering the tall, unsteady, dark building towering above him.

Entering via the well rusted door, Sherlock took out his small torch and looked around. The place was huge and had many floors above, some being inaccessible. He took a small walk around the many corridors, all leading to the same foyer in the middle of the floor, a wide room where the employees used to work.

Moriarty arrived not twenty minutes later, still smirking as he looked up at the building; it was going to be a challenge in itself to find the Consulting Detective in such a huge place, but one worth his wild.

**Chapter 40: Just a Favor**

Half an hour had passed and Sherlock was still looking around, waiting for Moriarty to show up. He sighed heavily as the urge to smoke a cigarette arose from his boredom, but then, the brief sound of his name being called in a sing song manner attracted his attention. Moriarty was certainly here and waiting to talk.

The Detective followed the sound, leading back to the huge work floor in the center of the building "Moriarty" he spoke as he slowly walked in, shining his torch around the place. The voice of the Consulting Criminal replied to him, "Sherlock. I heard you're bored." The voice echoed around the room, making it harder for the Consulting Detective to find "Yes" he replied "I'm at my wits end with boredom" he stressed.

Moriarty lay in the shadows, being able to see Sherlock in center room "And what is it you want?" he questioned. Sherlock turned on the spot, looking around the dark room "Just a favour" he paused, "For a damsel" Moriarty chuckled quietly to himself "Oh, Sherlock. What have you gotten yourself in to? You want a favour from me; I thought we were going to play a game?" he questioned. Sherlock looked around the room again, gritting his teeth together as he couldn't place the exact location "We are. I need your help in getting rid of a small problem" The Consulting Criminal nodded, pursing his lips "Frenchy wants you dead, I know, that Alexandre…" he shook his head with distaste "… I mean, who steals art these days, how very boring." The Consulting Detective agreed, continuing to shine his light around "You might be interested in knowing he plans on stealing the crown jewels"

An icy silence filled the room before Moriarty spoke in almost rage "What?! Oh, Sherlock. This changes everything" he began to pace from side to side slowly, his footsteps echoing in the empty room, Sherlock furrowed his brows and looked behind him, trying to place the location of the sound "So, my favour is this: help me get rid of the problem… Let's play murder"

"Oh, Sherlock" Jim's voice sounded almost teary and happy. He put one of his hands in his pocket and smirked manically as he came into the light, approaching the Detective and wiping away an imaginary tear "I thought you'd never ask"

**Chapter 41: For a Damsel**

Returning to Baker Street, Sherlock contacted Mycroft, telling him he had a plan. He just needed to know the details of Alexandre's heist: times, dates, people, etc. those sorts of things. Now that he had his partner in crime, his own plan was coming together nicely "Tea?" he questioned the Consulting Criminal as they both made their way up the stairs towards the flat.

The sound of a familiar voice caused a smile on your face as you opened the door, leaning against the door frame as he reached the top. Sherlock barely acknowledged you as he entered, Moriarty smiled and admired his view as he passed by, willing to introduce himself "James Moriarty. Consulting Criminal"

Now looking at them both, they looked very much alike, apart from the height issue "Oh, Consulting Criminal and Consulting Detective. Are you sure you're supposed to be having tea together?" you questioned playfully. Moriarty chuckled as he wandered over to Sherlock's armchair and sat down, getting comfy "Oh, you must be Miss. LeMatteu. Tut tut, you've been naughty with Sherlock and now your husband wants you both dead" he teased. Tilting your head, there was a hint of madness in this man's eyes; he certainly wouldn't be one to mess with.

Sherlock entered the kitchen, frowning as he saw bags from various well-known clothing and jewelry shops resting on the table, they certainly weren't there when he left "Where's Billy?" he frowned. You wandered slowly into the kitchen behind him "Oh, him. He's… _tied_ up at the moment" you smirked, peeking into your shopping bags. The Detective blinked, letting that sink in before he approached his bedroom door. Upon opening it he looked straight down at the bed to see a struggling Billy, full dressed of course, cuffed to the bedposts and gagged with whatever was at hand. Sherlock sighed and picked up the keys from the side table and let the poor fellow free "Sh- she tricked me!" he yelled, rubbing his wrists as he left the bedroom. Moriarty raised a brow, listening carefully to the conversation and accusations flying about.

You continued to smirk, ignoring the conversation and admiring that lovely red dress you'd purchased earlier. Sherlock knew that it was dangerous for you to leave the flat alone, but you seemed all right and nothing had happened luckily. Billy was still rather traumatized "Sh- she wanted to hit me and- and do _things_… she's crazy, she's a psychopath!" he cried, heading straight for the door and leaving. Moriarty smirked, perhaps you were more than met the eye.

Sherlock made the tea and returned to the living- room, placing the tray down on the side table and stirring his cup "Mycroft will provide us with the necessary information on where and when" The Consulting Criminal nodded, sipping his tea and crossing his legs, as did Sherlock. The similarities were too much, no wonder they were natural enemies.

The sound of an angry man huffing and puffing sounded from the hallway, struggling through the door and ready to rant "You wouldn't believe what happened in the shop!" he spoke, placing the bags down at looking over at the three of you staring back at him. Watson's eyes went from one to the other, fixing themselves on Moriarty's "What's he doing here?!" he stressed. The Detective shook his head as Jim raised his brows, trying to ignore him and sipping his tea, "Calm down, John" Sherlock stressed, placing down his own cup "What?! He tried to kill me!" Watson defended "Yes, yes, very good" The Detective ignored him, picking up John's laptop and handing it to him while tugging on your arm "Here, go show _Lady Muraya_ what you've been blogging about her lately"

A hint of interest sparked the smile on your lips, taking John's laptop for him "Ooh. Now I'm intrigued" you grabbed John's hand and pulled him out of the room, letting the Consulting pair discuss business.

**Chapter 42: Admin Ships**

Alexandre had set course for England, his right hand woman at his side for company. His mind was still on you, why would you betray him for another man; A man that could never offer you such a lifestyle with riches and art? His endless amount of questions only seemed to agitate him even more. He couldn't wait until he had the body of Sherlock Holmes lying in a manmade grave in the middle of a remote area.

221B had somehow transformed into an office, papers and pictures were everything, stuck to the wall, covering the tables and even on the floor. Sherlock stood in the center of the room, facing the back wall behind the sofa with his hands idly behind his back "The timing must be perfect. Mycroft agreed to lower the security surrounding the Tower of London to avoid any casualties" Sherlock informed. Moriarty stood aside him with his hands in his pockets, admiring the paper covered room as he chewed his minty fresh gum "Where's the fun in that" The Detective turned his head in his direction "Committing one murder is enough for me, thank you. Any you decide to do after is not my problem" Moriarty looked back at Sherlock, sending him one of those maniacal, flirtatious, amused grins he always did when the word murder came about.

The elder Holmes, Mycroft, was none the wiser about his younger siblings plan, he was sick to his stomach with worry. He'd gathered his Intel on Alex's arrival, place of stay and arranged a meeting with him to discuss the crown jewels even further, as _Clyde _was, apparently, a jewel thief.

After various awkward conversations between you and John the topic somehow ended up on you and Sherlock, "You know he's never had a girlfriend before" Watson commented, sitting on his bed "Really? I know he's never _had_ anyone before, indelicately that is" you replied. John nodded, "You know, I've often wondered if he'd be a better person if he had someone. There was this one woman who seemed to catch his eye, her name was Irene Adler" he explained, "I know" you butted in. Watson looked at you confusingly, the smile on your lips never seemed to fade no matter what he said, which was a good thing of course "Do you know her?" he asked. Without hesitation you just came out and said it "Yes, she's sleeping with my husband. She's my competition, who's now become my arch-enemy" Watson blinked, amazed and overloading with the information you just told him, it was shocking! Not to mention how alike you and his flat mate seemed, that was a tad creepy… _but he almost shipped it_ (OTP: Dominatrix You x Sherlock = Shertrix or Trixlock).

[**Authors Note**: I ship it ]

**Chapter 43: The waiting game**

Landing at the airport, it was cold, a lot colder than France. Alexandre always despised the English. He was one of those people who held grudges for past wars and such things; one of his relatives was a well-known general that fought in the Napoleonic Wars in which many people lost their lives. He was picked up by one of Clyde's cars, his assistant Anthea, now transformed into his wife, Rachel, the woman who pretended not to know about Roselle back in Paris.

"Good morning" Rachel spoke in a posh British voice as Alex and his new accomplice entered the vehicle, "Good morning" LeMatteu responded in a groggily voice, he'd never been to Clyde's place before, it would be an eye-opener to see another thief's success in the industry. Rachel smiled over at the recognizable woman, taking her phone out and texting Clyde.

Sherlock and Moriarty retreated to their corresponding chairs; James' being the Detective chair and Sherlock's being John's. A table was in between them and a game called _Operation_ was set up on it, Moriarty was rather enjoying it "Be careful, Sherly, wouldn't want you removing anything that might kill him" he smirked, carefully pulling out the broken heart. Sherlock watched carefully and blink, ignoring his enemy's words "This is tedious" he dropped the small tweezers down onto the game, neither of them had made the nose light up red, causing that awful annoying beep sound, it seemed as if they would be at it all night "We need a new game. I'm bored" Sherlock stood up and walked back over to the 'office' part of the flat "I need more information! Where is Mycroft" he huffed.

"I- I didn't know that you knew Irene" John spoke uneasily, "I don't think you know much of anything, dear" you replied with one of those types of smiles on your face, one that was flirty and wanting. Not noticing your, possible, insult, John blinked, suggesting "Uh, shouldn't we go back downstairs? You know, with Sherlock and his enemy?" hopefully then the situation would ease itself. You pouted playfully "But I was having so much fun up here, you still haven't told me what you've been blogging" you smirked. Gulping nervously John stood up off the bed "Just about how you seem to have an impact on Sherlock, people like to know he's human. I've only written about you both and the…" he paused, choosing his words carefully "… the _relationship_ you both have. Which is obviously a repressed one; I've seen the way you look at each other. Honestly, only one woman before you has managed to impress him and that was _Thy _woman, Irene"

**Chapter 44: Pressure points**

Preparing himself, Mycroft had to be extra careful. He knew Irene Adler was now with Alexandre, she could blow his cover at any point! He had to hope that she still cared for Sherlock enough not to put his and his brother's lives in danger. _Clyde_ smiled as the car pulled up outside a mansion well away from London itself, in the countryside "Welcome" he smirked as Alex got out the car, Irene following. LeMatteu shook the man's hand, greeting him and entering the building, admiring the paintings hung on the walls and loosing himself in a diamond engraved statue of Aphrodite that was really a fake of course, just in case Alex decided to swipe it.

Irene tilted her head and her eyes grew wide as she held her hand out to the man known as Clyde. Mycroft smiled, gripping her hand tightly and whispering to her "If you truly value your life and Sherlock's, I suggest you play along" Smiling awkwardly she nodded and pulled her hand away, walking passed and entering the place. Alexandre was certainly happy as he continued to admire the artwork, he spun on his heels to face Irene and wished to stress just how much he loved it, but Irene wasn't like you, she didn't love art as much and she certainly didn't care for sharing the moment with him. He was rather saddened at the fact, but still, it remained, you'd technically left and weren't coming back.

Sherlock was going out of him mind with boredom, Mycroft hadn't been in contact with the last few details on when and how Alex was going to swipe the jewels, it was a patient game for an impatient man. Moriarty on the other hand, quite enjoyed watching Sherlock look so eager to go along with this plan; it was certainly a new side he liked.

James got to his feet and smirked as he looked around "So, this damsel of yours, Sherlock. Isn't it a bit dangerous for you to fall in love? I could use her against you in a number of games" Sherlock barely acknowledged, he stood there staring at the wall "She's just collateral damage, there's nothing between us" he assured him, Moriarty smirked "Imagine it… You could be the prince charming that comes and rescues the princess from the dragon" he sighed happily "Every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain"

Sherlock could feel one of pressure points being pressed; perhaps he had developed some sort of 'relationship' with you in his mind. He sighed and turned his head to look at the man "She is nothing" he lied, "I hold nothing for her and never will, and even if I did, she would not be part of our games… I understand that you wish to get rid of me, but you don't have to use someone else to make that happen, use your mind and be creative about it" he huffed, turning back to the wall.

**Chapter 45: Anything I can do?**

"Tomorrow night?" Clyde spoke surprisingly, playing with his glass of brandy. Alexandre downed his third glass and nodded "Yes, I want to leave this country as soon as possible. Also, I have found where my wife and this Sherlock Holmes man are living. I want them both dead!" he yelled angrily in a drunkenly manner, perhaps the alcohol had got to him. Clyde nodded, "Of course, he will be dead by the end of the week, rest assured. In the meantime, tell me more about this plan and how much you're willing to take for the crown jewels" his eyes lit up with glee.

The Consulting Criminal was growing bored as well now; the living-room was peaceful and the fire was burning, the fiery orange glowing on Moriarty's face fitted with his madness perfectly. He continued to sit in Sherlock's arm chair with a notepad in his lap "How about drowning?" he asked. Sherlock waved his hand "Boring, too quickly" Moriarty nodded and crossed it out, "How about pushing him off the Tower of London?" he then asked, again, Sherlock shook his head "Too messy"

You'd finally bought yourself some clothes ideal for sleeping it, they weren't just the boring type with puppies on or kittens, no, they were lacy and silky, short and fun. You made your way out to join them, offering them the cigarette smoke you'd just lit. Sherlock's mobile began to ring; he jumped up to his feet, not even seeing the callers ID before answering it "Mycroft?"

On the other end was Anthea, aka the pretend wife of Clyde, "Hello Detective" she spoke quietly, "Mycroft won't be able to update you on the latest since he's busy in mid-conversation with Alexandre. From what I know, it will be tomorrow night. He has brought over many of his mercenaries to stakeout the area and make sure everything goes smoothly. You're going to need a lot of help to override anything they hack"

The Detective listened carefully, taking mental notes of everything he was going to need before hanging up and throwing his phone down "We're going to need help" he looked towards Jim who smirked as he chewed his gum. You watch them both, letting your own smirk blossom "Anything I can do?"

**Chapter 46: A plan in action**

Time was limited and there was much to do. Moriarty had contacted some of his trusted co-workers he used when playing his little games, one in particular, a rather brilliant sniper as backup if the entire plan fell apart. Sherlock worked closely with Mycroft, organizing times the guard's switched places, locations of CCTV cameras, tripwires, heat sensors, laser grids, etc. London Tower, housing the crown jewels, was certain well protected.

You and Moriarty arrived outside London Tower around 11:00am, pretending to be a happy posh couple just visiting a well-known location. Upon entering, Sherlock fed information via text about CCTV cameras, Moriarty would confirm as he glanced around the rooms. You wandered away from him and went to admire some precious art that caught your eye, bending over in that pretty red dress was probably a bad thing. The security guard aside the casing decided to let his eyes wander… Peeking up at him, you could see he was perfectly busy "See something you like?" you questioned playfully. The guard looked at you, flushing bright pink as he'd been caught "Oh, uh, maybe" he grinned. You stood up and brushed up aside him, resting your hand on the wall "Just maybe?" you questioned sensually. The guard continued to smile, looking extremely shy and certainly wouldn't notice the way you swiped the keys from his belt. Moriarty watched amusingly from a distance, ready to play his role of dear hubby.

He confirmed the last of Sherlock's information, Alexandre will most likely hack the feeds to loop them, making everything look fine until he'd taken what he desired. James then walked over, stopping a fair distance and beckoning you to come over. You pouted as you saw, looking back the guard now even more uneasy since he'd realized you'd come with someone "It was a pleasure meeting you, Harry" you emphasized, running your hand over his shoulder as you walked away. Moriarty suppressed his smirk as long as he could, keeping up his role of jealous husband, until you were both walking away and out of the building "You are brilliant" he complemented as you headed over towards a black car. You couldn't help but smile as you replied "I know"

**Chapter 47: Last minute details**

Mycroft was still unaware of Sherlock's entire plan, and certainly wasn't aware of Moriarty being involved. The Consulting Detective sat down in the opposite chair, knowing everything had been done now, it was safe to tell without him reversing the plan "I've contacted James Moriarty to help me deal with Alexandre" he blurted. The elder Holmes' face dropped to even more worry "What? Are you out of your mind, Sherlock?" he stressed, it was unbelievable. The Detective let his brother say what he wished, insults and lectures, before guaranteeing "He is already helping me. Moriarty can't let him take what's his can he, those crown jewels. And Alexandre wants me dead for inexplicable reasons…" he coughed "… So Alexandre is our common interest and we're going to deal with him" Mycroft sighed heavily and ran his fingers over his brows, this was either going to end extremely badly, or just bad "Please be careful" he warned. Sherlock frowned almost at his brother's sentiment showing but left without saying a word.

221B had now not only become an office, but a hangout for the local criminals. Mrs. Hudson had never seen so many good-looking 'bad boys' as she phrased it. She was certainly happy to offer around the tea and biscuits. A tall blond fellow look up at the woman as he took a cup "Thank you, would you like me to help you with anything?" he smiled up to her as he blew over the top of his cup. Sherlock and Moriarty stood a few feet away, observing the wall and the new map with all the CCTV cameras marked in red and the entrances/exits marked in blue, they both stopped what they were doing and turned to look back at the man, known as an ex-army coronel named Sebastian Moran, with a distasteful face, nobody was ever _really_ nice to the landlady, not even Sherlock at times. The landlady places a hand near her neck and blushes "Oh, no dear. There's no need" she smirked and moved away, heading back over to the door "You boys have fun"

Returning from getting changed, you leaned against the kitchen door frame and pouted "Where's John?" you asked. All heads turned to you and Sherlock replied "He has a date, apparently" he turned back to the wall along with Moriarty. You continued to pout "I'm bored. Can I go out shopping?" you asked. Before you could even finish that sentence, the Consulting Detective had already replied "No" Sighing heavily you looked down at the dark blonde haired looking fellow in Sherlock's arm chair, who was looking back at you while sipping his tea "You could always plot murder with us" he smiled.

**Chapter 48: Sentiment**

Tonight was the night; the night Sherlock would break the law for a damsel in distress. He was nervous, but calm, he had prepared himself for this. Moriarty stood impatiently in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie and sprucing himself up. Moran was making last minutes adjustments to the scope on his sniper, aligning it to perfection and cleaning the lenses. John had stormed out the flat after seeing Sebastian, one criminal was enough, but two that had tried to kill him, that was beyond sanity. You were also nervous, but your marriage was over as soon as Irene had come on the scene, there was no love from you any more, just hatred and fake smiles.

"Come along, we have work to do" Moriarty spoke, heading over towards the door. Sherlock lifted his head, standing up and turning around to see you all prepared and ready to go "Eh, no. You're not coming" he spoke. You looked at him, putting the small pocket mirror down "Yes, I am. You're going to murder my husband, I have a right to come along" you defended. Sherlock sighed heavily; he really did not want to put your life in any more danger. Moran smirked as he picked up his bag "Eager for murder, I like that" he chuckled, walking out and following James. The Consulting Detective was really irritated by the way his enemies seemed to show interest in the woman he… had interest in, nonetheless, maybe he'd win your heart "I don't want you to get hurt" he mumbled, taking your hand in his.

The affection was something you hadn't received in years, Alexandre had always been busy. The soft touch of Sherlock's hands brushing over yours was soothing. The Detective took a step closer, building up his courage to lean down and plant a soft kiss on your lips, he then went to move away, but you pushed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him "Be careful" you whispered. He sighed, human affection was never something he was good with, but nonetheless he knew he had to show at least tiny bit to not push you away "I will. I promise"

**Chapter 49: Showtime**

Mycroft had arranged for a car to pick the three men up and take them to their destination; he had also decided to come along. As they entered the vehicle, the tension grew, along with Moriarty's smile "What a lovely reunion" The journey was quick and they arrived not ten minutes later. Sebastian exited the car first, winking at his co-worker James before running off to the building in front, preparing his little hideout for the perfect angle. Moriarty and Sherlock were the last to get out and stood idly in front of the Tower, taking a deep breath before getting to work "Alexandre should be here in the next eight minutes, the feeds should be already looped" Jim nodded, "Let's loop the loop" he smirked "Don't you just love childish rhymes?" he turned to look at the Consulting Detective, he wasn't amused. Raising his brows awkwardly he turned to his phone and dialed a number. Thirty seconds after, an incoming text saying: "_Go_"

Alexandre always did love slipping into his black clothing and favorite trainers, preparing for 'battle' so he called it. The black van containing the vast amount of hackers and computers, including Irene and Alex himself arrived at the scene, doing, triple checks everything was in place before continuing. Alex hopped out the van, doing some quick stretches before having to climb the wall surrounding London Tower "When I get back, you will wear these jewels …" he bowed down and took Irene's hand in his, pressing his lips against her hand, then smiling up to her "…. and you will be my reine (Queen)" Sebastian had confirmed the arrival of, their now common enemy, Alexandre LeMatteu, it was show time…

The tension was really getting to you. You couldn't just sit here while everyone was out on a dangerous 'mission'. You had to know what was going on, the worry was too much. Picking up your coat you headed straight for the door, leaving and hurrying down the street, maybe heels weren't the best shoes to wear when in a hurry…

Alexandre had to take the longer route to get inside the building, not like Sherlock and Moriarty who had security codes and entered via the backdoor… Having a brother working in the Government surely paid off. The Consulting pair made their way up to the top level, where security was a lot higher, but, having codes was brilliant; codes Moriarty would never know. They approached a hall way when they both stopped, Sherlock took out a can of hair spray that he'd came across in his bathroom ever since you'd 'moved in', he sprayed it gently towards the hall, revealing laser red beams crisscrossing and in constant movement… The Detective walked over to the security pad on the side wall and reached out towards it, stopping instantly and looking over his shoulder towards Moriarty, who sighed annoyingly and turned around.

**Chapter 50: A lucky save**

Finally, Sherlock and Moriarty had reached the top, but now, they had to patiently wait for Alexandre to arrive. Apparently, he was good with lasers; it would be amusing to watch over the camera feeds. The room was dark, perfect for hiding in the shadows as you waited for thy '_Silhouette Shadow_'

Moriarty wandered over towards the protective glass surrounding the jewels and recalling how it was a perfect fit. He had come prepared for at least a little fun, a beeping noise sounded three times before the glass walls slowly slid down and Moriarty reached out, picking up the crown and placing it on his head. Sherlock did a double take and his jaw dropped as he turned to look, he gritted his teeth together and stressed in a whisper "What are you doing?! Put those back!" Moriarty pouted as he looked at Sherlock, then smiled "I didn't come all this way _not _to try them on, again" The Consulting Detective huffed and rubbed his eyes, this was going to be harder than planned.

Sebastian, outside London Tower, was keeping his eye on this black van and making sure that Alexandre did not leave alive… While scoping the area he moved across a female body, of course he had no idea who it was but slowly trailed up that body, admiring it, until reaching the face where he was surprised to see you. He pulled out his phone and dialed Moriarty's number, informing him that he was going to get you.

The black van at the end of the street was familiar to you. Alexandre was here and so was his men, you were putting yourself in a huge risk. You kept your distance, watching from the end of the road. Moran had to be quick; he pulled off the black suit he was wearing to reveal a grey t-shirt and some black trousers. He left everything set up and hurried down the fire exit stairs until reaching the road and approaching you, pretending to be a lonely sole in search of some fun…

The driver of the black van lifted his head from the sleazy magazine he was glancing through, frowning and leaning forward to look at the female figure a little better, but then a blonde man approached, counting some cash and surely making that visible as he handed it over.

You frowned and looked at him, listening as Sebastian explained "You've put your own life in grave danger, now just take the money and follow my lead" obeying wasn't your thing but you reluctantly took the money. Sebastian wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in your neck and picking you straight up off the floor and taking you into the dark alley.

Back in the van, the guy shook his head and returned to his magazine, he knew you were not that kind of girl. Thankfully, your life had been saved… As soon as out of sight, Sebastian dropped you to your feet and huffed, gripping your arm gently, but with enough force to pull you along, and leading you back to where he was stationed. You smirked as you hurried alongside him "That was fun"

**Chapter 51: Brilliant!**

After getting by small, tedious security measures, Alexandre approached the hallway, it looked clear, of course, but that was _too _easy. He slipped on a pair of glasses which revealed the pure red lasers. He sighed with an amused smile as he took out his iPod and quickly stretched his arms once again, a sweet yet bitterly smell lingered near the entrance to the hall, it was familiar… the only thing he could relate it to was you, for some reason, shaking away the thought that made him grow even more angrier, he played his music and began to make his way through the hall, dodging every laser to the beat.

Moriarty and Sherlock had managed to find the security room, where monitors sat and many computers. The Consulting Criminal pulled out a small memory stick and inserted it into the computer tower, letting it do its job before the monitor scrambled and revealed the true recordings. Both pair watched eagerly as a shadow figured man made his way down the hall with ease "Hmm, I should have brought snacks" Moriarty smiled up to Sherlock. As Alexandre reached the end of the hall, they both left ready to greet him.

Sighing with relief and observing the laser grid now behind him, Alex smirked; he was a step closer to winning his prize. The sound of a sarcastic clap echoed behind him and he turned around. Moriarty stood there alongside another taller man, clapping his hands and coming out of the shadows "Bravo, brilliant" he shook his head smiling. Alex didn't care much for this shorter person, but recognized the man aside him "You!" he yelled "You're Sherlock Holmes" he angrily spoke. Sherlock stayed quiet, observing the Frenchman, "You will pay for what you did" he spoke; his French accent was tense and deep. Moriarty tilted back and forth on his heels and interrupted "Oh, please. Let's get to the real reason we're all here" he huffed. Alexandre tilted his head as he looked at him and demanded "Who are you?" The Consulting Criminal held out his hand politely "James Moriarty, Consulting Criminal. Napoleon of Crime as Sherly calls me" Alexandre didn't bother shaking hands; he tiptoed around them and kept his eye on Sherlock, he wanted to end him "Have you ever heard of the painting '_Perseus turning Phineas and his Followers to Stone_' by Luca Giordano?" he asked. The Consulting Detective nodded, speaking surely "Yes, the one that was stolen from National Art Museum here in London, I believe it now hangs above your bed" The art thief could feel the anger and rage rushing through his veins at hearing another man know about another mans bed "Do you know the story behind it? Andromeda was betrothed to Phineas, until a man named Perseus recused her from a sea creature…" he explained, Moriarty smirked "Story time" Alexandre continued, staring at Sherlock with evil eyes "… Andromeda decided to marry him instead, and at the wedding, Phineas gathered his men and attacked Perseus, who unveiled the severed head of the gorgon Medusa, turning them all to stone… And that is what I am going to do to you" he took a step closer towards the Detective. Sherlock didn't even blink in the entire time of the story; he knew it was either him or Alex.

**Chapter 52: You're done for**

Alex pulled out a small pocket knife from his side pouch and paced around the Detective. Moriarty watched amusingly "Boring" The art thief had no business with this _Moriarty_ so he ignored him completely. He took a swing at the Detective with his knife but missed as Sherlock had managed to move out the way just in time. Alexandre began to laugh amusingly, swinging again and missing. Moriarty decided to let the games go on and watch. He knew he had this under control; Sherlock could handle himself of course.

Sebastian had now returned to his position on the rooftop not too far away. He'd dragged you all the way up and gave you some binoculars so you wouldn't get bored… but that wouldn't be much use "Do you think it's done?" you asked. The sniper sighed heavily "No. I will tell you when it's done" he shook his head and returned to his scope, observing the area.

Back inside, a small rip on his chest now ruined the lovely clean white shirt Sherlock wore, even he was growing angry and bored with this tedious thief "You should have been a better husband!" he spoke through his gritted teeth. Alexandre yelled out in anger and charged at him "I will bury you alive! I will bury you in concrete and make you into stone!" he swung violently until Sherlock fell to the floor after tripping backwards. Alex stood over him and smiled, putting the knife away and pulling out a gun "Best make sure" he aimed it at the Detective's head, this was it, it was over, he had finally won and disposed of this scum that stole his wife.

Sherlock looked up, his mind was clouded and no theory of a possible escape plan emerged. He tilted his head in search of Moriarty but he couldn't see him. Alexandre shook his head "You messed with the wrong criminal" he chuckled.

**Chapter 53: The knight in armor**

"Actually" a familiar voice sounded from behind the thief "_You_ messed with the wrong criminal" a silent shot was fired and hit Alex in the back of the shoulder, causing him to wince in pain and fall down aside Sherlock. The Detective got to his feet as quickly as he could and looked at Moriarty with surprise "Where were you?!" he breathed heavily. The Consulting Criminal had his phone against his ear as he pointed his free hand over his shoulder "Sorry, had to open a window, you know I never get my hands dirty unless completely necessary"

Alex breathed heavily as he tried to get to his feet; Moriarty shook his head and tut-tutted "You see. Sherlock _and_ these crown jewels are mine… and I'm not done playing with Sherlock my own little games, we play murder…" his eyes glistened with joy "… He usually solves them while I create them, it's fun, isn't it?" he turned to look at the Detective watching a few feet away before looking back and taking out a gun from his grey suit jacket "You know, we could never decide on the way we'd kill you…" he explained while checking over the gun before pointing it down at the thief, then Sherlock spoke, interrupting "I think I've decided… " he walked back over and revealed his own little secret weapon, the gun of his flat mate, John Watson "… Plain and simple" he aimed it down at the fellow.

Moriarty smirked "Go ahead" lowering his weapon a little "No, no. I insist" Sherlock replied, lowering his slightly. The Consulting Criminal chuckled and shook his head "No, really" the Consulting Detective also shook his head smirking back at Jim. In the end, they both sigh and shrug "Together?" they mumbled to one another and nod, turning back and pulling the trigger.

**Chapter 54: The start of your new life**

The morning after, back at 221B Baker Street, the news was covering the grand mystery of the body found, the body they believed to be the '_Silhouette Shadow_', in the Tower of London. Your five year marriage was over, just like that, it was upsetting even when you had no feelings but hatred left. At least Alex's lawyer had already phoned and explained that you would inherit your late husband's savings and most possessions in the châteaux. Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, earlier than usual and heard the television on, speaking about the incident. As he walked into the living-room, he saw you sitting on the sofa in one of his dressing gowns, curled up in a ball and just watching it. He stumbled over, holding the sheet around his body and sitting down next to you "Are you all right?" he asked.

You nodded and moved over to him, resting your head on his shoulder "I'm cold, can we share?" you asked, Sherlock awkwardly looked down at the floor before looking embarrassed "I'm not decent" Smirking and standing up, you dropped the robe you wore to the floor and crawled back to him "Neither am I" He couldn't help but smile and admire the things before him, he opened the sheet and let you cuddle up to him, getting comfy and wrapping it back around you both. The sound of the Detective's phone rang, he leaned up, letting the sheet fall around his waist while he clicked 'open' on the message: _You owe me, Sherlock. But we can call it quits if you solve my later game. _–JM

The Detective did not care for games at this moment; he reached out for the TV controller and switched it off. Leaning back on the sofa, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him, possibly too close as there was merely, not even an inch between your lips when he looked down. Staring into his each other's eyes was probably a huge mistake, the tension drew you both in, you planted soft kisses on one another's lips until crawling into his lap, straddling him and kissing him passionately "I love you" you blurted, pulling away from the kiss. Sherlock looked up at you, the feel of your hands on his cheeks covered the flustered effect as he mumbled back his response "I- I… love you… too"

**FIN**

[**Authors Note:** I hate finishing stories. It makes me feel emotional and like it's all over. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. All 3 and comments are appreciated. Thank you for your support]


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